If I Could Close Your Wounds
by Lapiz Lazuli Luna
Summary: "Let me through!" he screamed. "For God's sake, let me through, please!" He shoved his way through them, past their reaching arms, past their confused faces, past every man that barred his way from where she lay bleeding against the barricade. Because all of his medical expertise meant absolutely nothing if he couldn't save the one who mattered most. Joly x Eponine AU
1. Chapter 1

_Last revised: 6/14/13_

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He had to be the stupidest-looking man she had ever seen in her life.

That was her first impression of the bourgeois boy as she studied him, hidden, from the shadows of the alleyway. He was one of those university students judging by his fancy shoes and tie, but he carried himself like some clown in a vaudeville act. The way he was grinning like an idiot as he promenaded his way through the streets, the way his feet bounced up off of the cobblestones like he was walking on rubber, the way he was humming a merry tune at the top of his register, pausing only every so often to blow those mussed up bangs out of his face ...

_Mon Dieu …_the gamine thought to herself. _I've seen aristocrat girls who look less ditzy than this fool._

And then she smiled to herself as her sharp brown eyes fixed themselves on the fancy leather purse he clutched in his right hand. Crouching low, the gamine crept out of the shadows and into the street, weaving her way through the bustling crowd like a lioness stalking her prey. As she moved, her eyes stayed ever trained on her prize while the young man skipped blissfully on, oblivious to her approach. The distance between them shrank to a few mere paces, but the gamine was patient and stealthy, waiting for an opening …

And then there it was. And as quick as an adder bursting out of the grass … she _struck_.

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"Hmmmm, hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm, hmm … _oof!_"

The bourgeois boy stumbled backward as out of nowhere something slammed into him _hard_, nearly knocking him off of his feet. There was a blur of dirty russet brown followed by the stench of sweat and street filth, and then just as quickly it was gone. But he had barely any time to make sense of the vision as he found himself nearly falling over some poor old fellow who happened to be standing behind him. Straightening up, the bourgeois boy whirled around to put two steadying hands on the old man's shoulders, apologizing profusely …

And then with a jolt of horror he realized that both his hands were empty.

_Oh no! _The boy spun about, his eyes frantically scanning the cobblestones, desperate to see where his purse may have fallen. _No ... no, no, where is it! Oh Mon Dieu, don't tell me I ... I ..._

That blur of brown flashed once more through his mind. Immediately, the wheels and cogs began to whirr in his brain, replaying that moment again and again, slowing it down to its sharpest clarity. Fine details reemerged from his recollections like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. That color … that texture …

_Hair._

That blur he saw was someone's hair.

His head shot up and like a hawk his eyes immediately narrowed in on a single head that matched. A head of long, russet waves that was rapidly vanishing into the milieu …

"Hey … hey, stop! _Stop thief!_"

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The gamine snickered, quickening her pace as she snaked her way through the crowded street. This girl was a seasoned criminal. She knew better than to stop or falter in her step or worse, look back now that she's been spotted.

But then the bourgeois boy's voice erupted again. Louder. _Closer. _"Hey! Stop, please stop!"

The gamine swore under her breath. _That idiot's gaining on me! _A strange commotion erupted behind her. A slamming of bodies against bodies, a stumbled stream of apologies over angry shouts of indignation. In spite of herself, the gamine glanced once, just once, over her shoulder, and the sight that met her eyes nearly made her laugh out loud.

The bourgeois boy looked like an absolute buffoon as he stumbled his way through the crowd after her. He flailed his arms about, tripping over beggars and carts and his own two feet and crying out "Pardon! Pardon! Pardon!" with every poor soul he happened to smack into along the way.

But in spite of the chaos, the boy was fast. _Too _fast. Thinking quickly, the gamine ducked down and darted into a narrow alleyway. If she could just lose him in the shadows, if she could just get back to her father's den ...

She didn't see that small rut in the earth until her foot had already caught. And then her ankle twisted with a vicious _snap_ and she went sprawling across the ground.

"Ow!" she cried out as her body slapped against the dirt and a sharp pain shot up through her leg like a lightning bolt. She cursed aloud and her arms stung as she pushed herself up to a sitting position and reached down to grasp her limp and aching ankle.

"Oh my goodness!" she heard a voice exclaim, followed by the frantic pounding of approaching footsteps. The gamine's head shot up and she swore through her teeth as the flustered face of the bourgeois boy filled her vision.

"Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, bending down and reaching his hand toward her shoulder. "Are you alright, Mademoiselle? Are you hurt?"

"Don't touch me!" she spat, slapping the hand away. Her head whirled around, her eyes fixing themselves on the purse lying just a foot away. She lunged, grabbing the purse in her hand and pushing herself upright, but the moment she put pressure on her injured ankle it buckled beneath her.

"Mademoiselle!" the bourgeois boy cried, moving closer. "Oh. Oh dear. I'm afraid you may have a nasty sprain, Mademoiselle." He bent down, gently grasping the girl's twisted ankle. "Here, let me take a – _Ow!_"

"I said, _don't touch me!_" the gamine screeched, kicking the boy in the chin with her good leg and causing him to go stumbling backwards. Gritting her teeth against the sharp, throbbing pain, she tried to pick herself up once again only to fall right back down onto the dirt. "Ow!"

"Mademoiselle …"

The gamine whirled on him, hissing like a snake with her eyes blazing dangerously.

"Woah, woah, woah, take it easy, Mademoiselle!" the bourgeois boy exclaimed, chuckling through his nerves and grasping his injured jaw. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to take a look at your ankle."

"_Get back_." she spat, struggling to scramble to her feet once more. "You ain't gettin' the best of me, you – _oof!_"

And then the air was knocked straight out of the gamine's lungs as the bourgeois boy grasped her by the arms and pinned her down to the ground.

"Now, now, stop that," he scolded gently. "You've gotta stop putting pressure on that foot or you might make it worse, Mademoiselle."

The gamine's mouth fell open as she lay there too shocked to move. Then with a furious growl, she began to thrash and snarl, "Get your hands off of me! Let go, you stupid ugly _bastard!_"

The bourgeois boy's eyes widened. "Oh! Such _language_, Mademoiselle."

"I said, get off! Get off or I'll _scream!_"

"Now, now, there's no need for that …"

"_Help! This man is raping me!_"

"Mon Dieu!"

In an instant, the bourgeois boy's hands had flown off of the gamine's body and he scrambled back as if he suddenly realized she had the plague. The gamine sneered at the boy, relieved to be free once again. And then, raising herself up ever so slightly, she used her frail arms to drag herself across the ground and towards the alley wall.

_Pft, _she thought to herself._ This boy's a real idiot. As if _that_ would get anyone to come running. Please. Not in _this_ town._ Clenching her teeth, the gamine braced her hands against the wall and bit back a yell of pain as she slowly, awkwardly, began to lift herself to her feet.

"Mademoiselle …"

"_Don't,"_ the gamine hissed, her eyes squeezed shut. "Just shut up and stay where you or I'll scream again, _got it?_" Inch by inch, she continued to rise, slipping against the wall every so often only to brace herself again. And then, finally, she was standing. She leaned all of her weight on the bricks beside her and her one good foot to keep her upright.

The gamine let out a relieved sigh, fighting to mask the pain as she turned to smirk at the bourgeois boy.

"Now … if you'll excuse me, _M'sieur … _I'll be on my way."

She turned from him, wobbling ever so slightly. And then she froze, staring down at the ground, down at the injured ankle that dangled precariously off of the earth. The gamine swallowed, suddenly unsure.

"Mademoiselle …"

"_Shut up!_"

She moved.

One hop. Then a second. She wobbled and swayed and braced herself hard against the wall. Her good ankle throbbed from the impact of each bounce and she winced, cursing under her breath. Clenching her fist, she sucked in a deep breath. She pushed down on the balls of her good foot, lifted up for another hop …

But the foot beneath her slipped and she crumpled to the ground.

"Augh!" the gamine yelled, punching the wall in frustration. She let out a stream of expletives and fought back infuriated tears. _  
_

"Um … Mademoiselle?"

The voice that reached the gamine's ears was soft and cautious. They made the hairs on the back of her neck raise up on end. Slowly she turned to face that stupid bourgeois boy. Her eyes were narrowed into daggers, daring him to pity her.

"Mademoiselle," the young man repeated, concern just edging out over fearfulness in his gaze. "Please. You are hurt. I … I am a medical student, Mademoiselle. I can help you, if you could just … just ..."

"Oh …" The gamine sneered bitterly and she inched backwards, shaking her head at him. "Oh no, no, no. You aint' getting a sous off of _me_, M'sieur."

The boy's bushy eyebrows rose at her response. "I … no, of course I wouldn't _charge_ you for it, Mademoiselle."

"Ha!" she spat. "Sure, you won't. You ain't gonna make me indebted to you for nothing, M'sieur."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mademoiselle."

The bitter smirk fell from the gamine's face. She glared warily at the boy, who met her eyes with pure and open honesty written all over his face.

"Please," he said, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Just … just let me take a look at it. I swear to you, Mademoiselle, I won't make you pay me a single sou."

The gamine said nothing for the longest time. The boy swore he had never seen such fierce, unyielding brown eyes on anyone, man or woman. And then … those eyes fell closed. Snorting in irritation, the gamine leaned back against the wall and stretched her injured leg out, turning her face away.

"Ah, good girl. I knew you would come around." She felt his presence at her side and his fingers lifting her ankle off of the ground, beginning to nudge at it gently. "I'm just going to feel if there are any breaks. Let me know if I hurt you, alright, Mademoiselle?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Pardon, Mademoiselle?"

"I _said_, stop calling me that."

"Calling you what, Mademoiselle?"

"_That!_"

A thoughtful pause. "Oh … _Mademoiselle?_"

"Yes! Now stop calling me that!"

"Oh! Yes, _Mademoi_ – … er, I mean … yes."

The gamine let out another snort, but then she winced, biting back a whimper as the boy slowly moved her foot about in a slow circle. He stopped. "Sorry. Does that hurt?"

The gamine bit her lip and did not reply.

"Well …" he said, his voice taking on a cheerful tone. "The good news is that your foot is not broken. Although …" He paused, poking at the bone ever so carefully. "Hmm … it seems you have broken it once before. Years ago."

The gamine's eyes flew open and she stared at him incredulously. "You …" She glanced down at the foot that lay in his hand. "You can tell that just by _feeling_ it?"

The bourgeois boy grinned cheekily. "Ah, _Mademoi_ – … er, I mean, that is to say … as a medical student, you learn to pay attention to the little clues. Even the ones which aren't visible." He tugged at one toe lightly. "May I ask the story behind that old break?"

Anger flashed through the gamine's eyes. "_Mind your own business_."

The boy held up his free hand. "Alright, alright. Then … may I ask why you object to being called _Mademoiselle?_"

The gamine's scowl deepened, but she did not respond. To be honest, she was not quite so sure of it herself. Perhaps it was because no one had called her by that name since she was a child. Since she had ceased to be that pretty, enchanting little girl that was worthy of such a fancy endearment. And she did _not_ need another reminder of what she was once. Especially from this idiot.

"Then …" the bourgeois boy tried again. "May I ask your name?"

"No!" she snapped. "Quit asking all these stupid questions!"

"Oh but …" The boy's face turned smug as he chuckled, "If I do not know your name, I will not know what else to call you besides Mademoiselle."

The gamine's eyes turned venomous. _This cheeky bastard._ Her anger only flared as the boy's expression turned triumphant.

"Ah ha ha!" the boy declared, wagging a finger at her face. "I've got you there, now don't I!"

She slapped at that stupid wagging finger. "_Shut up_."

"Aw, please don't be mad," he chuckled lightly. "I just want to know what I am supposed to call you, that's all."

The infuriated gamine did not answer at first. Then, through her teeth she replied, "It's Eponine."

"Eponine," the boy breathed, absorbing each syllable. His eyes turned bright. "Oh, that is a beautiful name!"

The gamine only sniffed in response.

"Well, my name is Joly," he said, reaching out a hand. "So nice to meet you, Eponine."

The gamine just glared at that hand like it was the most offensive thing in the world. After a few awkward seconds, he withdrew it, wiping it off on his pants.

"Well …" The boy cleared his throat. "Now, Eponine, I'm going to be needing my purse back if you want me to wrap this ankle up."

The gamine's eyes widened, darting toward the leather purse she still had clutched in her hand. Her fingers turned to claws, seizing it possessively, and she turned to give the boy a menacing glare.

"Haha, I'm serious, Eponine," the boy chuckled nervously. "My bandages are in there. And my medicines. And, well, everything I need to get this ankle wrapped up properly."

The gamine did not move. Then, suddenly, she tossed the purse at him so fast she nearly hit him square in the face. "Here," she spat. "Keep it."

Visible relief washed over the bourgeois boy's face as he held the purse before his eyes. "Oh, thank you," he breathed, opening it up to dig through its contents. The gamine's ears perked up at the clinks of vial against vial, the tinkling of medical instruments and the rustle of cloth.

"You see, Eponine?" the boy said, pulling the purse open a bit more for her to see. "Just medical supplies in here. Nothing valuable. I'd think you'd have been pretty disappointed had you gotten away with this."

The gamine rolled her eyes. "Would have been valuable to _someone,_ M'sieur."

"Well, yes. Everything is valuable to _someone_, Eponine."

The gamine's eyebrows knit together. Something about the boy's words struck a nasty chord in her.

"To me," he continued, holding up a clear vial. "This purse is quite literally life or death. To you …" His hand vanished back into the purse. When it reemerged, it held a roll of bandages. "To you, it holds all the magic stuff that's going to fix that ankle of yours."

The gamine snorted, closing her eyes and turning her face away as he began his work. He started with some salve first. Some strange-smelling, greasy stuff that he rubbed ever so gently over her foot and between her toes. The gamine's body suddenly stiffened beneath his touch and he stopped, glancing up with concern in his eyes.

"Eponine? Are you …"

"I'm _fine_," she hissed.

"I-I don't want you to feel uncomfortable …"

"Just finish the _job_, M'sieur."

The hand remained frozen where it had paused. The gamine's eyes shot open and she glared at the boy. He evenly returned her gaze for just one moment, considering. And then he smiled – kind and reassuringly – and continued on his ministrations.

The gamine grumbled bitterly under her breath. She _hated_ this. She hated being read so easily. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel, especially in front of _this_ idiot. What's worse, she was at a complete loss as why the feel of his hands were so unsettling.

She'd been groped before, of course. Numerous times. By men with larger, rougher hands than this fool. But there was something different about his touch. It was gentle yet probing, careful yet methodical. She could feel his fingers pressing through every fiber of her sinews. She wondered to herself if he was feeling for other secrets, other pieces of her past hidden in her bones.

And for that reason, this idiot's touch felt far more invasive than any other brute's.

"The muscles here are a bit thin, Eponine," the boy remarked. "You really ought to get some more protein in your diet."

The gamine choked and the boy's hands froze again. His head shot up. "Er, sorry. That was a stupid thing to say, wasn't it."

The pure contempt in her eyes spoke volumes. _Yes. Yes, it was. _The boy laughed, trying to dispel the tension, and then he ducked his head and reached for the bandages.

It was when he actually got to wrapping her foot that the idiot started humming again. It was that same annoying tune he was humming in the street earlier, the one that got his head bobbing from side to side and stretched his mouth into a stupid smile.

"Stop that."

The boy blinked. "Stop what, Eponine?"

"That stupid _humming._ It's annoying."

"Oh, uh, sorry!" he laughed. "Just a habit, Eponine. I like to hum while I work."

"Well … _stop it_."

He smirked. "Yes, Mademoiselle."

"_And stop calling me that!_"

"… yes, Eponine."

That fool couldn't have wrapped her foot fast enough. And then … he was done, holding the perfectly bandaged up ankle ever so gently for her inspection. The gamine just stared at it silently, then finally she gritted out, "_Merci_, M'sieur."

A wide grin spread across the bourgeois boy's face. "Why, your welcome, Eponine. Now then …" He set the foot down onto the ground ever so gently and then reached up to slip an arm around her shoulders. "I suppose I'll be getting you home?"

The gamine instantly recoiled with a hiss. "Get off of me! I can get home just fine, M'sieur."

The boy's eyes widened. "But Eponine! You know you can't walk on that ankle."

"_Watch me_," she snapped, gritting her teeth and bracing her hands against the wall behind her, sliding herself up.

"Stop."

The gamine froze as the bourgeois boy reached forward and seized her shoulders, pinning her in place. She spun on him, her eyes burning with loathing, but the expression on the bourgeois boy's face made her start in surprise.

The smile was gone. So was the playful sparkle in his eyes. His expression was deathly serious, his green eyes boring into hers unyieldingly. She could see in his eyes that he was not going to allow her to go anywhere.

"Come now," he said quietly. "You tried that already. Quit being so stubborn, Eponine."

Her mouth dropped open in protest. "I …"

"Eponine … it isn't weakness to accept help when it's needed. You're a tough girl, I can tell, but trying to walk home on that ankle all on your own is just foolishness." The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And if you ruin it after I went through all that trouble to wrap it for you, I'm afraid I'm going to be quite upset."

The gamine scowled silently.

"Come on," he said, reaching forward once more. "Just lean on me, Eponine."

She _hated_ him. She hated him and his caring, stupid, _smiling_ face. With a grunt, she closed her eyes and leaned into his grasp. He smiled, gently lifting her off of the ground.

"Atta girl, Eponine."

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She refused to look at him. She refused to grant him a single word or glance. Her frail body was positively stiff with revulsion as she leaned against him, angled so that there was as much space between them as possible. They hobbled slowly, stumbling every few steps, and per her request they took the long way through the back alleys where no one would see them. The gamine would rather die than let the masses see her look so weak and helpless leaning on this boy.

"Here we are, M'sieur," she said once they arrived the back door to her building. Already she began to wiggle away from him, desperate to be free.

"Oh!" the boy exclaimed. "So you live here? At Marius' building?"

The gamine suddenly whirled on him. "You … you know M'sieur Marius?" she stammered breathlessly.

The boy gave her a look, taking in her flushed expression. "Why yes. It just so happens Marius and I are classmates. In fact, we …" He looked up as the door suddenly creaked open and he laughed. "Oh, well speak of the devil!"

The gamine spun about and her face lit up with joy. "M'sieur Marius!"

"'Ponine?" Coming out of the door, the young student bolted forward at the sight of his limping friend. His handsome face was etched with concern as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "And Joly? Mon Dieu, what happened here? Are you hurt, 'Ponine? What happened?"

To Joly's astonishment, the gamine on his shoulder began to giggle quite girlishly, batting her eyelashes with a flirtatious grin. "Oh, 'tis nothing, M'sieur," she crooned, oblivious to Joly's eyes. "Just a little sprain. It'll take more than _that_ to take 'Ponine down, M'sieur."

Joly studied the girl's love-struck face in amazement. He did not even think that she was capable of smiling. And the effect, he admitted, was quite astounding, lighting up her dirty face like a candle in a dark street.

"Oh dear," Marius said, bending down to examine the injured ankle. "Well, thank God Joly found you then, 'Ponine." He looked up and smiled. "You've got your arm around the best medical student in all of France, you know that, right?"

The gamine's smile faltered slightly but she regained herself. "I'd much rather have my arm around _you_, M'sieur," she said with a wink.

Marius laughed lightheartedly at his friend's remark, standing upright to tap her on the nose. "Ah, 'Ponine. You are such a tease."

A light blush spread across Eponine's cheeks, but Joly caught that flash of pain in her eyes and the downward twitch of her mouth at his words.

"Now," Marius continued, completely oblivious. "It looks like you've got this one then, Joly. I've got to be heading over to the library now."

"W-wait, M'sieur!" Eponine exclaimed, grasping him by the arm and stopping him. Marius turned, bewildered, and with a smirk the gamine said, "Are you really in that much of hurry? I … I'm going to need someone to lead me up the stairs to my room."

"Oh, don't be silly, 'Ponine!" Marius said with a smile, extracting her hand from his arm. "You've got good ol' _Joly_ here to help you."

The gamine's face fell, her eyes flashing with hurt. "B-but, M'sieur …"

"Now I really need to get going," Marius said hurriedly. "Take care! The both of you!"

A single wave … and then he was gone.

Eponine's hand hung suspended in the air, staring dumbly at the empty space where Marius once stood. Her eyes were stricken with painful disbelief, her mouth fallen slightly open and trembling.

"Um …" Joly cleared his throat uneasily. "Shall we be heading upstairs, Eponine?"

The gamine did not respond immediately. He wondered for a moment if she had even heard him. And then her eyes fell closed and he felt her body sag within his grasp.

"Lead the way, M'sieur …" she muttered.

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No words. No glances. Not a single acknowledgment. Eponine simply hung off of Joly as limp as a rag doll as they staggered their way up the stairs. Joly stared at her worriedly, wanting to say something to her but ultimately thinking better of it.

He understood that there were some conditions of the heart that even the best doctors in the world can't fix.

"Here," Eponine said brusquely once they reached the top of the stairs. She pointed to the first door. "This one's mine, M'sieur." She pulled herself out from under him, leaning against the wall for support as she hopped forward. "And this is where you'll leave me."

"Eponine … are you sure you don't want me to …"

"_No, __I don't need you to tuck me into bed, M'sieur!"_

Joly raised both hands carefully as Eponine glowered at him through narrowed eyes. "Alright, alright. I … I guess you can take it from here."

For a moment, the two just stared at each other awkwardly. And then Eponine sagged against the wall with a heavy sigh, looking more tired than anything.

"Hey …" Joly said, waiting patiently for Eponine to raise her eyes to his. He smiled. "Don't let Marius get you down. He may be the most oblivious man on earth, but … you're a charming girl. I'm sure he'll come around."

Eponine's face twisted like she tasted something foul. _Me? Charming? Pft! _

"You can feel free to take your leave now, M'sieur," she bit out.

"Please, Eponine. It's Joly. I think we've spent enough time together for us to be on a first name basis now, don't you think?"

The gamine just shook her head at him, her expression still hostile. Then, to her shock, the bourgeois boy grabbed her hand and raised it up toward his lips. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle."

He kissed it.

She yanked the hand back, her eyes burning with venom as she wiped the hand off on the back of her dress. Insult flashed briefly through the bourgeois boy's eyes. But then he laughed, winking at her with mirth.

"I do hope we meet again, Eponine."

She stared after him incredulously, her eyes never leaving the back of his head as he disappeared down the stairs. And she could still hear him humming that obnoxiously merry tune of his long after he had already vanished out the door.

_TBC …_

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_AN: I know! Totally odd pairing! I am actually an avid Enjolras x Eponine fan, but then one day I randomly read another Joly x Eponine fic on this site, and then the idea to do my own take on it just kinda popped into my head a couple months later and then germinated. So I thought, why not! I'll run with it! Let's see where it goes, shall we? This is just the first chapter, folks. Let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

"You're gettin' lazy on me, girl."

Eponine glanced up once at her father and then went right back to counting money on the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about, Papa."

"Don't lie to me. You haven't filched us a single sou all week."

"I've been _injured_, Papa," she spat. "You can't make a clean getaway when you can barely move your own _foot_."

"Hm." The old Thenardier moved closer toward his kneeling daughter. "Well, that foot of yours looks pretty bloody healed _now_."

But Eponine barely registered her father's approach because there was that intolerable, crawling _itch_ in her scalp again. _Argh … _With a growl, she reached up and began to scratch herself like a dog. She'd been enduring this bloody itch for _weeks_ now, and she could barely tolerate it anymore. As a result, the gamine was completely distracted when her father walked over and delivered a kick to her exposed ankle, causing her to slip and stumble onto her side.

"_You!_" Eponine shot to her feet and glared the old man down furiously. Her still tender ankle throbbed and she winced slightly as she shuffled her weight on it, prompting the old man to give her a cruel smirk.

"There, you see? You can stand up just fine." He shoved her toward the door. "Now out with you. And don't come back 'til you've earned your keep."

Eponine stormed her way to the door, yanking it open. She turned back just once to snarl, "I _hate_ you!" before slamming it shut behind her.

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As soon as Eponine stepped out into the streets, she knew that something was amiss. People – young and old, men and women – were rushing toward the square, amalgamating together in a single mass pressed together toward the center. Her curiosity piqued, the gamine crept closer and frowned as the impassioned shouts of male voices reached her ears. And then she halted in astonishment as her eyes fell upon a small head of messy yellow hair racing excitedly into the throng.

"_Gavroche?_"

The young boy halted in his steps and whirled about, his blue eyes lighting up at the sight of the gamine. "'Ponine!" he cried, rushing forward to throw his arms about the taller girl's waist. "Hey there, sis! You come to join the revolution with us?"

"What the heck are you talking about, 'Vroche?" Eponine asked seriously, placing her hands on her brother's shoulders and bending down so they were face to face. "What's going on here?"

"It's the revolution, sis!" the boy exclaimed, pointing toward the crowd. "Me and my friends there are gonna overthrow the state!"

The gamine's eyebrows knit together. "What's this nonsense? Overthrow the state? And how exactly do you plan to do _that_?"

A grin spread across the boy's face and he pumped his fist in the air. "Through _war_, 'Ponine. _Through war!_"

"Pft!" Eponine scoffed, rising to her feet. "That's ridiculous, Gavroche."

"Hey wait, 'Ponine!" the boy exclaimed, grabbing her wrist as she began to walk away. "You're not gonna stay for the rally?"

"I've got no interest in rallies, 'Vroche," she mumbled, wriggling her wrist free. "I've gotta filch some money for Papa."

"But _Marius_ is here!"

Eponine froze right in her tracks. "What …" she turned around slowly. "What'd you say?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "I said Marius is here. He's right up there, on top of the stage."

_Marius! _Immediately, the gamine rushed forward to the edge of the crowd, standing on the tips of her toes and straining to see.

Sure enough … there he was. Standing above the heads of the throng, waving his fist in the air and yelling out words she could barely understand. The gamine's breath caught as she gazed upon his face, reveling in the way his beautiful brown eyes blazed with passion and fire.

Shaking his head, the small boy ran up and grabbed ahold of her wrist. "C'mon, sis. This way. Follow me."

Nodding, but never taking her eyes off of Marius, the gamine allowed the boy to drag her through the crowd and closer to the front where her beloved stood. Her heart pounded harder and harder as Marius' face drew close until she was standing at the very edge of the stage. Her beloved paced before her, emphasizing every word he spoke with a furious shake of his fist, his voice both powerful and beautifully melodic.

Watching him speak, Eponine almost felt as though she was standing in the middle of the ocean as the waves of his impassioned words crashed over her and swept through her soul. Warmth flooded her chest, creeping up to her cheeks. He had to be the most beautiful man she had ever seen in his life.

And then he was finished and the mob erupted in cheers. Grinning broadly, Eponine also whooped like a fool and raised her hands high in the air to applaud him … although she honestly had no idea what in the world she was applauding him for. Marius waved his arm proudly as his eyes swept over the crowd, but never once did his gaze rest upon the russet-haired gamine who stood at the foot of the stage.

Then he turned and his companion – some taller, golden-haired boy in a red jacket – stepped to the front and took his turn to speak. This man – Enjolras is how he introduced himself – was also quite handsome and proved to be the much better orator. But Eponine barely saw him. Her eyes were only for Marius. But to her utter dismay, she saw her beloved's eyes were completely fixed on Enjolras and ignorant of her presence.

Eponine stared up at him fixedly, quietly begging for him to tear his gaze toward her for just one moment. One look. One smile. That was all she needed from him.

_Look at me … Marius, I'm here … look at me …_

"Eponine!"

The gamine nearly jumped in surprise as someone hissed her name from somewhere near the right of the stage. And then she heard that same voice mutter "_Pardon, pardon, pardon_ …" as someone began to push his way through the crowd in her direction. Bewildered, her eyes flit back up to see Marius still standing upon the stage, oblivious to the commotion. And then a hand grasped hers and she spun about …

And who should it be but that stupid, smiling bourgeois boy from the alleyway?

"Eponine! You're here!" Joly exclaimed in an excited whisper. "Come to join our cause for freedom, have you?"

"_Let go of me!_" the gamine hissed, yanking her hand back, "I'm not here to join any _cause, _idiot. I'm just here for Marius."

A hint of hurt flit across Joly's expression, but he masked it with a smile. "Ohoho, you're a funny girl. You know that, Eponine?"

The gamine responded by flashing the boy a vulgar gesture that made a woman standing behind him gasp in dismay. But then the crowd suddenly erupted in a roar of applause, instantly jerking Eponine's attention from the bourgeois boy and back up to the two men who stood atop the stage.

"Vive la France!" the golden-haired boy shouted at the top of his lungs, punching his fist in the air. And then Marius and the entire crowd lifted their own fists and began to cry out, "Vive la France! Vive la France!"

"Vive la France!" Joly yelled, grabbing Eponine by the wrist and yanking it up. "C'mon, Eponine! Like this! _Vive la France_!"

"Let go!" the gamine shrieked. Pulling her arm free, she elbowed him in the side. _Hard._

"Oof!" Joly cried as he doubled over and clutched his stomach. "Ow …"

"'Vroche!" Eponine yelled, spinning away from the stooped bourgeois boy. Spotting her brother, she bent down and grabbed him by the shoulders. "'Vroche, go fetch Marius and bring him to me."

The younger boy wrinkled his nose. "No way! Go fetch him yourself, sis."

"'Vroche, please_ …_"

And then the gamine's ears perked at the sound of a high-pitched whimper to her right. "Oh no … oh no, no, no, no, _not my poor kidneys …!_"

Frowning, the gamine turned to see the idiot bourgeois boy hunched over with his arms clutching his torso, his eyes pinched shut and his face twisted in panic and pain.

"_Mon Dieu!_" he whined. "Oh, what if one of them _ruptured_ … then all the toxins is going to go spilling into my intestines … and then my bloodstream, _oh no!"_

"M'sieur?" In any other situation, Eponine would be laughing at this boy for acting so ridiculous. Except his face was completely blanched white and shiny with a cold sweat, and his eyes were shrinking and widening in such a disturbing way that there was no mistaking it for a joke. She spun on her brother. "'Gavroche, what the heck is _wrong _with him?"

The younger boy just rolled his eyes, completely unconcerned. "Nothing. He's _always_ like that, sis."

"Mon Dieu …" With shaking hands, the bourgeois boy began to dig through his leather purse. "My medicine … _I need antibiotics!_"

"M'sieur!" Before she even realized what she was doing, the gamine had stepped right up to him and placed a hand on his quivering shoulder. "M'sieur, calm down. What are you going on about?"

The bourgeois boy did not reply. He simply swallowed a few more gasping breaths as he pulled a single vial out of his purse. His hands shook violently as he unscrewed the cap and poured the dark liquid down his throat. And then he simply stood there, stock still with his lips sealed tight and his eyes searching the sky as he swallowed several times as if waiting impatiently for the medicine to digest and spread through his system.

"M'sieur."

He blinked. Once. Twice. His hands massaged his stomach carefully, as if feeling for the organs buried beneath his flesh. Then with a long breath, the boy lowered his eyes to meet those of the bewildered and concerned gamine.

"It's fine," he said with an uneasy smirk. And then he took another breath, as if to reassure himself. "I think I'm fine." And then the boy's smile widened and he patted the hand that still rested on his shoulder. "Don't you fret yourself over me, sweet Eponine."

The gamine started, blinking, and then withdrew her hand with a scowl. "I wasn't fretting, _idiot._"

"Oh, yes you were!" Joly declared, grinning elatedly. "I could see it in your eyes, Eponine."

Heat burst across the gamine's cheeks. "Shut up. I couldn't care less about you, you stupid, ugly bourgeois boy."

Joly sucked in a breath as if he'd been punched in the chest. "Err … so you still hate me, then?"

"_Yes_, idiot."

"B-but, _why?_"

"Why _what?_"

"Why do you hate me?"

"_Why? _Because you're _stupid_, that's why!_"_

The idiot just kept blinking up at her as if the words couldn't register. And then he laughed. "Oh, am I?"

"_Yes."_

"Well, then, I sincerely apologize for being so stupid, Mademoiselle."

"I thought I said to stop calling me that."

He blinked, then chuckled. "Oh yeah, you did."

The gamine sniffed irritably. "Just leave me alone." And with that she tried to push her way through the mob and get as far away from him as possible.

"No wait, Eponine!" Joly exclaimed. "Here, let me make it up to you by taking you over here to Marius."

Before the gamine could protest, the boy had seized her once again by the wrist and she suddenly found herself being dragged toward the right end of the stage.

"Marius!" Joly yelled out over the din. "Marius, lookie here!"

Any lingering urge Eponine had to punch this bourgeois boy in his stupid, smiling face evaporated the moment she laid eyes on her beloved as he descended from the stage. "M'sieur!"

The handsome student looked up in surprise, finally noticing his friend for the first time that day. "Oh, 'Ponine! You're here?"

"Yes, she is!" Joly said proudly, throwing an arm around the distracted gamine's shoulders. "Mademoiselle Eponine here wants to join our cause, Marius. Isn't that great?"

The gamine forced a laugh through her teeth and quickly wiggled her way out from beneath the bourgeois boy's arm. Once free, she ambled right up to her beloved student and flashed him a coy smile. "You spoke so well, M'sieur," she said. "I do so very much like the way you talk."

Marius laughed good-humoredly. "Why, merci, 'Ponine. Although I'm a bit surprised to see you here. I didn't think rallies like this were really your thing."

"Oh, M'sieur," Eponine crooned, tucking one hair behind her ear. "Anything that's _your_ thing is _mine_, too."

But then the gamine froze as that one tiny tug at her hair suddenly unleashed a storm of burning prickliness across her entire scalp. _Oh no._ Gritting her teeth, she twisted away from her beloved and began clawing at her hair in a desperate attempt to relieve that bloody itchiness.

"Eponine?" Joly said, moving closer to her. "Hey, are you okay?"

Wincing, the gamine cracked one eye open and was both infuriated and relieved to see that Marius was not even looking at her anymore. No, her beloved had turned to speak to his golden-haired companion about something. The gamine didn't even notice that Joly was now standing just inches from her face, peering at her scalp with the utmost scrutiny. And then she flinched as she felt the slightest touch of fingertips against her hair. And then …

"Oh my! You have _lice,_ Eponine!"

The gamine's whole body turned to ice. Shock, then mortification, shot straight through her stomach. Her ears rang and blood flooded her face all the way to the tips of her ears.

That imbecile had just yelled it out so that anyone within twenty feet of them could hear it.

"Oh … um … _oh_ …"

The sound of that beautiful male voice sent a shot of horror through the gamine's trembling heart. Too terrified to look but helpless to resist, Eponine turned her head slowly to see she now had Marius' undivided attention. His mouth hung open as he gaped at her, embarrassment flickering through his gorgeous brown orbs.

"'Ponine …" He gulped, turning an awkward shade of red. "Oh, you … uh …"

The gamine wanted to die right there where she stood.

"Now, don't worry, Eponine," she distantly heard a voice say, followed by the touch of a hand against her shoulder. "If you want, I've got something that will kill all those pesky lice outright, all we have to do is …"

"_You!"_

Red streaking t her vision, the gamine swung around and socked that stupid bourgeois boy right in the jaw. There was a loud _crack_ and the surrounding crowd gasped, stumbling backwards as the boy slammed straight to the ground unconscious.

Meanwhile, his assailant fled through the streets, one hand covering her face to hide her tears. Behind her, she could scarcely hear one handsome, flustered student yelling out over the din, "Wait! 'Ponine, come back! Wait!"

XXXXXXXX

"So ... you're not going to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You came home _crying_, 'Ponine. Talk to me."

"Just drop it, 'Zelma."

The younger sister just shook her head, watching quietly as Eponine laid out the last of her spoils of the morning. Ten francs. Enough to satisfy their father. Enough to get their family by another day or two.

A knock at the door made both sisters' lift their heads in surprise. After a moment, Eponine shot the younger girl a narrow look telling her to stay where she was. She approached the door carefully with soundless steps, straining up on her toes to peer through the peephole.

And then Azelma heard her sister let out a squeak and the door swung open, revealing the face of the handsome neighbor who held her sister's heart so fully in his hands.

"M'sieur Marius!" Eponine exclaimed, leaning against the doorframe with a teasing smirk. "What brings you to our home this evening, M'sieur?"

The student smiled. "Bonsoir, 'Ponine, I have something for you," he replied, placing a small envelope in her hand.

"For _me?_" the gamine sang, pressing the envelope to her breast. "Aw, M'sieur, you shouldn't have."

"Oh, it isn't from me. It's from Joly, actually."

Eponine's face fell. "_Joly._"

"Mm-hm. He asked me to bring it to you."

Her voice choked in her throat, Eponine pulled the envelope from her breast and held it up to her face. "And what does _he_ want?"

"He didn't tell me. But I'm guessing, it's, uh …" He paused, cleared his throat. "Maybe having to do with your lice …"

"_I don't have lice!_"

Her shriek rang out through the hallway and Marius took a step back, his eyes wide. Seeing his reaction, the gamine's face immediately softened with regret and she ducked her head.

"I don't have lice," she lied softly, heat flooding her cheeks. "M'sieur Joly is mistaken."

"Yes …" Marius said awkwardly. "Sure, I'm, uh, sure he is." He cleared his throat. "Well, in any case, there's his letter for you."

Eponine bit her lip. "Was that all you came for then, M'sieur?"

"Uh, yes. It was."

She bit her lip harder, tasting blood.

"Well, uh, I had better get going." He bowed. "Bonsoir, 'Ponine."

Eponine's words came out as a low mumble. "Bonsoir, M'sieur."

Her hands remained frozen on the knob as she shut the door slowly. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against the wood and let out a long breath.

"_Little he knows," _she whispered mournfully herself. "_Little he sees …"_

"Oh _please_, 'Ponine. Quit acting so pathetic."

The gamine's head swung around. The younger Thenadier sister met her glare evenly, staring back at her from her place on their shared mattress.

"I have no idea why you even bother with him, 'Ponine. I think he's downright stupid. He can't possibly be worth all that fawning and worshiping you're always doing when he's around."

"Shut up," Eponine grumbled. "You've never even been in love, so don't bother trying to preach to me on the subject."

"Well, maybe I've got no interest in falling in love if _that's_ all you're getting for it."

The elder sister had nothing to say in response.

"And what's that letter there, then? From Joly, he said? Who's that, 'Ponine?"

"No one," Eponine replied as she unfolded the envelope carefully. "Just some stupid bourgeois boy I punched out in the square earlier."

"You _punched_ him? Why? Did he try to put his hands on you?"

The older girl just shook her head quietly as she held the letter up and began to read.

_Bonsoir Eponine,_

_Hope Marius got you this letter like I asked him to. Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm really very sorry about what happened in the square. Now that I've realized what I said, I feel really stupid. I guess you were right about me then, eh? Really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But I do want to make it up to you! I meant what I said about having a treatment that can fix your lice problem really fast. Just drop by my apartment and I'll be happy to make that itch of yours go away! Like before, I promise I won't charge you a single sou!_

_The address is below. I hope you'll drop by, Eponine!_

_Your dearly humble friend,_

_Joly_

Azelma watched in amazement as her sister let out a snarl under her breath before crumpling the paper in her fist and flinging it across the floor. That done, the gamine stormed her way over to the shared mattress and collapsed heavily on top of it, turning her face toward the wall and yanking the thin blanket over her body.

"What?" Azelma exclaimed. "'Ponine, what is it? What did it say?"

"Nothing," the older girl muttered. "Go to sleep, Azelma."

"But …"

"Just go to sleep!"

The younger sister stared at the elder's back for a long, long moment. Then, with a sigh, she lay down and closed her eyes. "You're a really strange girl, sis …"

XXXXXXXXX

Eponine couldn't sleep that night. That bloody itch wouldn't let her.

With a strained moan, the suffering gamine tossed and turned every which way upon the thin mattress. She tore at her hair, tears stinging in her eyes as a million microscopic teeth gnawed at her scalp without mercy. The itch was quite literally unbearable now, and it was all she could do not to break down in sobs. Finally, cursing aloud, the gamine flung herself off of the mattress and bolted across the cold room.

Azelma's eyes blinked open. Through her blurred vision she made out the bent silhouette of her sister picking something off of the floor. The older girl crouched there for just a few seconds and then straightened up, making her way towards the door.

"'Ponine?" Azelma called out sleepily. "'Ponine, where you going?"

The soft slam of the door was her only answer.

XXXXXXXXX

_AN: Gee, got that one out fast. Haha, I'm still in school and I've got some papers coming up, so please don't expect me to pull that out for every chapter. This one's a shorter one though; but no worries, I'm planning for the next scene to be quite lengthy! ;)_

_Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed and even faved! In a sea of lovely Enjolras x Eponine fics, I'm so honored that you all would give this highly unconventional idea of mine a chance! And any honest and helpful feedback would be greatly appreciated, so please review! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Last revised: 8/16/13_

XXXXXXXXX

She felt like she'd been standing there for hours. It had really only been a couple of minutes, but it certainly felt longer.

This _Joly_ occupied a much nicer set of apartments than the Gorbeau House she and Marius called home. In here, the halls were clean and spacious, and there were brass knockers on all the doors. It was still no place for the truly wealthy, but nonetheless the ragged gamine wasn't used to being in such tidy surroundings. It made her terribly uncomfortable and she fidgeted where she stood, picking at her soiled dress.

_Oh come on, 'Ponine. This is stupid. Just knock on the door, already._

Ignoring that shiny brass knocker completely, she raised her fist and connected it with the wood.

After just three knocks, the door flew open. Eponine stepped back, her eyes growing wide. Firstly, the stupid bourgeois boy had come to the door dressed in nothing but a pair of white pajamas. Secondly, his chin was swollen to the size of a plum and all wrapped up in bandages and gauze. Thirdly, the moment he saw just who it was, his eyes lit up like a pair of Christmas candles.

"Eponine!" he exclaimed. "You came! You actually came!"

The gamine bit the inside of her cheek_. Yes, I did. Why does he have to be so stupidly happy about that? _

_Mon Dieu, why does he have to be so stupidly happy about _everything_?_

"Please, come in!" he declared, ushering her inside. "Make yourself at home. Oh, but pardon the mess in here. I didn't think you'd be coming tonight, so I didn't get the chance to clean up. Would you like some tea, Eponine? Or some water, perhaps?"

"Um … no thank you, M'sieur."

It was a really nice place. It had to be at least five times larger than hers or Marius' apartments. The plaster in here wasn't peeling off the walls and the furnishings were modest but comfortable. But the boy wasn't kidding about the mess. There were books and papers strewn all over the floor and dozens of jars and medicine bottles piled on top of every table.

"Ah, please," Joly, moving to clear out the stack of textbooks on the armchair. "Take a seat here, Eponine."

"Merci, M'sieur," the gamine murmured, brushing off her dress as if paranoid about soiling the chair. Her eyes widened as her body sank into the soft cushioning, and she leaned back into it, relishing the sensation. _Mon Dieu …_ it'd been so long since she'd sat in anything so comfortable.

"Well …" the boy said, pulling a wooden chair up in front of her and setting himself down onto it. "I'm glad you found your way over here alright, Eponine."

"I know my way around, M'sieur," she mumbled in reply.

Joly smirked. "Yes, that's what I've been told."

The gamine frowned at him. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement.

"Now," the boy continued, leaning forward and gesturing with his hands. "Here's what I'm planning to do. I'm just going to pour some rubbing alcohol into your hair to kill all of those nasty lice. And while it's soaking in, I'll comb out all the nits. Then we'll just rinse your hair out with water and we'll be done." He grinned at her. "How does that sound?"

Eponine stared back at him through narrowed eyes. "And you're telling me you won't charge me anything?"

"Nope! This treatment's on the house."

"Why?"

Joly frowned. "Why what?"

Eponine crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where I come from, nothing gets you nothing, M'sieur. Why would you bother doing something like this for free?"

"Because … I guess I owe you after what happened in the square." He gave her a warm smile. "And I like to think of you as a friend, Eponine."

The gamine scoffed, shaking her head dismissively. "No. We most certainly aren't friends, M'sieur."

Joly's face fell slightly. "Oh … well, alright. Suit yourself, Eponine." Then, with a strained smile, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. "Shall we get started?"

Eponine just sat there and gave him a once-over. "You may want to put on some real clothes first, M'sieur."

The boy stared at her bewilderedly. Then he looked down and his eyes popped wide as he realized for the first time he was dressed in only his pajamas.

"Oh, hahahaha!" he laughed, turning quite red. "Oh my, how embarrassing. Um … here Eponine, I'll just take you on in to the washroom and I'll join you after I get changed, alright?"

Rolling her eyes, the gamine nodded and reluctantly gave the boy her hand, allowing him to lift her to her feet and lead the way. As she entered the washroom, she was astonished to see there was a real bathtub inside – a luxury she hadn't laid eyes upon since she was a little girl. There was also a mirror hanging upon the wall and she couldn't help but pause to sneak a glimpse of her reflection. What she saw, as always, made her inwardly weep. She looked positively wretched, and any trace of beauty that may have remained in her from her childhood seemed to shrink more and more every day.

"Okay, so you'll be sitting there," Joly said, gesturing toward the stool that had been set next to the tub. Then he left her side, moving toward the small cupboard at the back of the room. He brought her back a folded towel. "And you can wrap this around your shoulders so we don't get your clothes wet, alright?"

The gamine nodded sullenly as she took the towel from his hands. Then she tilted her head forward so her hair fell to one side and began to drape it about her shoulders. The moment the soft, clean cloth met her bare skin, she closed her eyes and gave an involuntary shiver of pleasure. Blinking her eyes open again, she frowned to see the bourgeois boy was staring at her intently with the oddest expression on his face.

"_What?_"

"Eponine …" His hand stretched forward as if to touch her and she instantly drew back with a withering glare. The boy's hand fell to his side, but his eyes remained fixed on her neck. "Sorry, it's just … you have so many markings there, Eponine."

A shot of alarm flashed through the gamine's eyes. She wrapped the towel more tightly about her, fully concealing her throat from his sight. Shrinking back, she cursed her body for betraying her secrets to this boy once again. And just what did those markings reveal? A lifetime of beatings? Violent scuffles in the street? The rough hands of unforgiving police officers? Or those of the scoundrels who saw her as no better than a cheap whore?

"You going to go on and get changed, M'sieur?" she snapped angrily. "Or are you just gonna keep standing here looking like an idiot in your pajamas?"

The expression in Joly's eyes was one of sympathy, not insult. "Yeah … I guess I should fix that, huh?" He nodded toward the stool. "Well … go on and take a seat then, Eponine. I won't be long."

The gamine felt a small twinge of regret as she watched the boy turn to leave. She plopped down onto the stool, cursing to herself. _T__here's really no reason to be so cruel to him anymore, is there? He's being really kind to me. Much more than I deserve, really._

But then the boy stopped, freezing in front of the mirror as if something had caught his eye. He leaned in closer, his eyes wide open and nervous, and then he opened up his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Eponine watched bewilderedly as he pinched and poked at the soft pink organ, running his fingertips up and down its surface.

"M'sieur?"

The boy jumped, nearly biting off his tongue off in surprise. "Oh! Clothes! Right! Sorry!" And with that he scurried out the door, chuckling all the way.

The gamine let out a snort. _This bourgeois boy is so weird_, she thought to herself. And for the life of her she couldn't understand why he was being so nice to her. Not even Marius treated her so fondly and she had never taken a swing at _him_.

As always, a dagger of pain twisted in the gamine's heart at the thought of her beloved Marius. She glanced toward the mirror, drinking in the gray pools of sorrow reflected back at her in the glass. Insentiently, she found herself preening and stroking her hair just as she did that first day in Marius' apartment, and as before she opened her mouth to release a melancholy tune that echoed through the shadowy cathedral of her heart like the peals of a funeral bell.

"_I love him … but when the night is over … he is gone … the river's just a river … without him … the world around me changes … the trees are bare, and everywhere, the streets are full of strangers …_"

A sudden movement out the corner of her eye made the next words freeze upon her tongue. Startled, the gamine spun around to face the now fully-dressed, wide-eyed bourgeois boy who was gaping at her from the doorway.

"W-what are _you_ looking at?" she stammered, trying and failing to sound severe.

"Eponine …" Joly breathed. "Was that _you_ singing?"

The gamine's face flushed red and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, masking her embarrassment with a spiteful glare. From the mortified look on her face, you would have thought that the boy had walked in on her while she was naked.

"D-don't be embarrassed, Eponine!" Joly exclaimed. "I thought … I thought it was _beautiful!_"

The gamine choked. "Don't make fun of me, M'sieur."

"No, Eponine," he insisted, stepping forward. "Your voice is _extraordinary_. It's … how can I describe it? There's a haunting quality to it unlike anything I ever heard. You make the singers of _Orphée et Eurydice_ sound like pretentious frauds by comparison."

Eponine's eyes widened. "You know opera, M'sieur?"

"Why, yes! I quite enjoy operas. Are you familiar with them, Eponine?"

"Well, yes, sort of," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. "I've never gone to any _real_ ones, but I do go to the theater sometimes, so I've heard quite a few of the songs before."

"Ah yes. Marius mentioned you enjoyed theatre."

Eponine's head immediately shot up. "M-Marius talked to you about me?"

"Um … well, yes."

"What did he say?" she demanded, her eyes wide and pitiful and hopeful.

"Not much," Joly replied gently. "I just asked him a few questions about you and he answered them, that's all."

"Oh." The gamine's body visibly deflated, and then her eyebrows knit together. "You asked him _questions_ about me? _Why?_"

Joly smirked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was ... um … curious."

Eponine felt a shiver go up her spine. Scowling, she turned her face away and determined to change the subject. "Look, it's late. Can't we just get this thing over with, M'sieur?"

He chuckled in response. "Yes, I suppose we should."

Eponine heard his footsteps and felt him come closer until he was standing over her seated figure. She squirmed, the close proximity between their bodies suddenly making her skin crawl. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the large medicine bottle in his hand and saw that it was full of a clear liquid. And then she felt his hand on her shoulder and reluctantly lifted her head, stiffening at the sight of his smiling face hovering over hers.

"Relax," he said, squeezing her shoulder gently and perhaps misreading the disquiet in her eyes. "Just lean back for me, Eponine."

With a shudder, the gamine closed her eyes and obeyed, leaning until her back rested against tub. And then she froze, because the boy's hand was suddenly _in her hair_, combing through the tangled strands and spreading them out over the tub's edge. The gamine clenched her hands in her lap, bracing against the sensation of his fingers brushing over her scalp. She wondered if the boy could feel the heat of the blood that was rushing to her hairline beneath his fingertips.

_Get a grip, 'Ponine!_ she thought to herself. It's not as if she'd never been in this position before. Men towering over her, _touching_ her, running their hands through her hair, uninvited.

But this … this was _different_.

And somehow, this was _worse._

Then the gamine felt his hand withdraw and she let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Then there was the small pop of the cork followed by the sharp smell of alcohol flooding into her nostrils.

"Now … this alcohol is probably going to sting, Eponine. Have you been scratching very much?"

The gamine swallowed, then nodded. Above her, she heard the boy give a small sigh of regret.

"Okay … just try to relax."

And then he poured the bottle over her.

_Ahhh! _Eponine bit down on her lip, fighting not to make a sound as the liquid set fire to her tender scalp. It seared mercilessly as it spread, exploding through those spots where she had scraped the skin bloody and raw. She clutched at her dress, tremors overtaking her body all the way down to her toes.

_Mon Dieu … it hurts … it hurts! _And then a whimper finally escaped her lips, followed by a single tear leaking out the corner of her eye.

"Breathe." A voice at her ear. A hand at her shoulder. "Just breathe, Eponine." And then that hand began to rub her shoulder gently, partially tugging her mind away from the firestorm raging through her skull. The gamine didn't even bother to swat that hand away, didn't even care that he was once again touching her without her permission, because his massages felt _good, _oh so terribly good. The gamine breathed in and out through her nose as her muscles slowly relaxed between the warm, kneading touch of his hands.

"Okay …" she heard him say distantly, followed by the clink of the now half-empty bottle against the floor. "I need to rub it in … make sure it gets all the way through. Hang in there, Eponine."

And then the hand was gone and the gamine nearly cried aloud at its absence before she felt his fingers combing through her wet mesh of hair. Once again, he was gentle, so careful in how he handled her, as he rubbed the alcohol through the rest of her scalp.

As the minutes passed, Eponine could feel the burning begin to fade and numb. Or perhaps she had simply learned to tolerate it. In either case, the sting was most certainly still there, but it was no longer unbearable.

"Good, it's working!" she heard Joly say. His hands withdrew and he wiped them off on a towel he had set by the tub. "A lot of the lice are dead already and they're starting to fall out, Eponine. Now we just have to comb out those nits so they don't hatch and start the problem all over again."

And then his hand was upon her shoulder once more, and to Eponine's surprise she actually welcomed its return. She looked up and through her bleary vision she saw the boy smile at her softly. "You alright now, Eponine?"

The gamine cleared her throat and swiped at the tear trails across her cheeks. "Um … yes," she croaked, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Better, M'sieur."

The boy's grin widened. "Good, that's good! Would you like me to get you some water? Or perhaps a pillow to hold on to?"

Eponine shifted her eyes to the wall. She couldn't remember the last time someone had been so attentive to her needs. It was strange and disconcerting. "N-no, that's alright, M'sieur. I'm fine."

Joly smiled, squeezing her shoulder once more before pulling a small comb out of his pocket. Eponine watched as he dipped the comb in the alcohol then reached up to begin the work of running it through her twisted bangs. She winced as the teeth grazed her still sensitive scalp, prompting him to give her shoulder another squeeze.

"Sorry," he said. "I'll try to be more careful."

Eponine just gave a small shake of her head. "It's fine." A breath. "I'm fine."

Joly chuckled. "Always so tough, Eponine."

Several long minutes passed in silence, broken only by the steady, gentle scrape of the comb through the wet thickets of her mane. The boy was infinitely more careful now and Eponine barely felt the comb's bite at all. There was just a little tugging sensation when the teeth snagged on a tiny nest of nits or a knotted tangle. But the boy never yanked, never pulled too hard, never caused any further aggravation to her still stinging scalp.

The strange thing was … the combing felt … _nice_. Eponine found herself thinking back to those earlier, happier days when her mother used to brush her hair every morning before she went off to play. The memory sent a rush of warmth through her chest that quickly turned cold as she remembered all that had happened in her life since then.

She really shouldn't have been too surprised when the boy started humming that insufferable tune again. While drumming his fingers along the tub's edge with his free hand, no less.

"M'sieur …"

"Hm? … Oh, oops!" the boy laughed, seeing her grimace. "No humming. Right. Sorry!"

The gamine rolled her eyes and he went back to combing. Then after a moment, she asked, "What is that song, anyway? It … sounds familiar."

"Oh, does it? Well, I don't quite remember the name of it, but … it was a song my mother used to sing to me whenever she was fixing me up as a boy."

Eponine's eyes widened. "Your mother?"

"Yes. Rest her soul."

"Oh!" Eponine gasped. "I … um … I'm sorry …"

Joly smiled sadly. "Oh, don't feel bad. It was a long time ago, anyway."

Eponine felt as if she'd been struck suddenly in the gut. She felt terrible for making him stop. In fact, she felt terrible for a great many things.

"M'sieur?"

Joly paused, frowning at her strange expression. "Hm? Yes, what is it, Eponine?"

The gamine bit her lip and looked away from him, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. "Merci … beaucoup. For … for doing this for me," she mumbled stiffly. "It's … very nice of you, M'sieur. And … and …" She cleared her throat, painfully swallowing just a bit more of her pride. "Sorry for taking a swing at you in the square. You didn't really deserve that. I guess."

"Eponine …" Joly breathed, stopping when he saw the gamine stiffen and chew at her lip again. He restrained himself, knowing it was difficult for her to say those words and knowing better than to interrupt or say anything that would embarrass her further.

"Um …" she continued, glancing down and picking at her dress. "And I guess I should also apologize for waking you up so late, M'sieur. I really should've waited until the morning, but …"

She stopped there, and by then the blood was singing through her ears.

"Oh no!" Joly exclaimed, shaking his head with a laugh. "Oh, this is no problem at all, Eponine. I'm happy to help you. I'm usually up at this time anyway."

The gamine glanced up at him. "Oh really? Doing what, M'sieur?"

"Ah, reading! As a medical student, I have to study three times as much as any of my friends. And since there's only so many hours in the day, I'm often up until the wee hours of the morning, hitting the books."

"That sounds miserable, M'sieur."

"Oh no, I love it! The human body is a source of endless fascination to me, Eponine. You can never read or write up enough about the mysteries of the human anatomy. It's so intricate and complex and …" He paused suddenly, taking in a breath before continuing unsteadily, "Mortal and … fragile and … _feeble_."

Eponine could feel his hands shaking against her hair. "You okay, M'sieiur?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine!" the boy replied, though his laugh came out a little shaky. "Like I said, I'm more than glad to assist. That itching must have been bothering you very badly if it drove you out of bed at this hour."

The gamine smirked. "Well … I'm usually up at this time anyway, too."

Joly's eyes lit up. "Oh, are you? So you're a fellow night owl, eh? And what is your late night hobby, Eponine?"

"Well … I like to take night walks, M'sieur. After everyone's asleep, when the city's so quiet and peaceful. So … that's usually what I'm doing. Walking, and … singing, and, well …" She cleared her throat. "Imagining."

She wrinkled her nose at that last word. _Mon Dieu … that sounded really stupid._

"Oh yeah. Marius did mention you were a night walker."

The sound of that name, as always, sent a jolt through the gamine's body. "W-what else did M'sieur Marius say about me?"

Joly looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "That you go to the theatre. That you like to sing. That you can read and write fairly well. That you are clever." He smiled. "But then I already knew that."

The gamine swallowed uncomfortably, but then she saw the boy's face turn somber.

"He also told me your family is very poor. And that you told him you and your sister often go without food, and …" He glanced at her carefully. "That your _father_ doesn't have the best reputation in town …"

Eponine let out a hiss and turned her face away. "I don't need your _pity_, M'sieur."

She could feel his eyes on her face, and after a moment he said, "I know."

He continued combing and the silence resumed.

They went on like that for a few minutes more. Eponine found that she was actually starting to relax. She closed her eyes, nearly falling into a half sleep to the gentle brushes and tugging against her scalp.

"You have rather lovely hair, you know."

Eponine's eyes snapped open. She wrinkled her nose. "Very funny, M'sieur."

"Oh, I mean it," Joly replied, running a hand through her coiled locks. "It's thick and it's got a nice, rich color to it. It's the kind of hair many women would be envious of."

Eponine scoffed bitterly. "No woman would ever be envious of _me_, M'sieur."

"On the contrary, I know women spend quite a lot of money to thicken their hair the way you have it naturally."

"Oh, sure," Eponine spat. "And I'm sure they'd like to take all the lice that comes with it."

"Well, that's what we're going to fix right now, aren't we?"

Eponine let out a short barking laugh, but the sound was devoid humor. Then, with pain in her eyes, she said, "Too bad you can't fix the rest of me, eh, M'sieur?"

The comb slowed to a stop, halting in mid-stroke. Cautiously, the boy turned to face her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking down upon her own frail, ragged body, her expression a pitiful mix of despair and contempt.

"I … do not know what you mean, Eponine," he said at last.

The gamine gave one shake of her head. "I mean there's no cure for ugliness, is there, M'sieur."

Joly's face grew soft. "Oh, my dear Eponine. There's no ugliness anywhere I can see."

The gamine's eyes clenched shut. "Quit lying to me, M'sieur."

"I don't lie, Eponine. Here's what I really think." He paused, running the comb to the ends of her tangled strands. "In your situation, you should wish that there was a cure for _blindness._"

A spasm of pain crossed the gamine's face. "Well, perhaps if I wasn't so _ugly_ he wouldn't be so _blind."_

"Is that what you really think?"

Eponine just chewed at her lip.

"Well, if you really think changing your looks would make Marius love you … I do not think you should want him, if he were that sort of person."

She twisted her head toward him and muted anger flashed through her eyes. "You know nothing of love, M'sieur. Don't try to lecture me."

Joly almost looked offended by her words. "I _do_ know about love!"

"Oh?" Eponine quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you have a _girlfriend_ then, M'sieur?"

"W-w-well ... yes," he stammered with blood rushing to his cheeks. Then he glanced to the side. "Well … sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well …" He cleared his throat uneasily. "I'm sort of … sharing her."

Eponine blinked at him, not understanding. "What do you mean … _sharing_ her?"

"I mean … she's kind of my friend Bossuet's girlfriend too. She's …" He coughed. "_Seeing_ the both of us."

Eponine stared at him like she'd never heard anything so stupid. "That's no girlfriend, M'sieur. That's a _whore_."

"No!" Joly exclaimed. "Musichetta's not a whore. She's … um … she's what my professor calls _polyamorous_. She … she's inclined to being in love with more than one man at the same time. She loves Bossuet and me. Both. So … we share her."

"And what of _you_, M'sieur? Do you love _her_?"

"I …" He paused, glanced up at the ceiling. "Yes, I … I'm quite wild about her."

"But you're okay with … _sharing_ her?"

"Y-yes."

"It doesn't bother you, having to share her?"

She could see him sweating now. "N-no," he stuttered. "Musichetta's free do what she wants, really."

Eponine scoffed loudly, shaking her head at him. "Then you _don't_ love her, M'sieur. Not really."

"W-why do you say that?"

"Because if you really love someone, you can't bear to see them with someone else."

Joly blinked at her. Eponine just stared back at him evenly. "You …" He swallowed. "Uh … um … y-you think so?"

"Are you saying you don't long to have this _Musichetta_ all to yourself?"

"Well … maybe … but wouldn't that be a little selfish of me?"

Eponine laughed at that, giving him a patronizing smirk. "Love is always just a little bit selfish, M'sieur." She looked up thoughtfully. "Love is a giving of all of yourself. So … your heart yearns for all of it in return." The corner of her mouth pulled downward. "But even if you don't get what you're longing for … that doesn't mean that you'd stop loving that person. But ... that doesn't stop your heart from bleeding, either."

At the last words, Eponine shifted her gaze away, fighting not to betray the tears that were building at the edges of her eyes. She did not see how forlornly the boy was gazing upon her now. She did not see the hand that lifted as if to offer her some comfort only to fall back to his side unnoticed.

"You really love him, don't you," he said at last. It wasn't a question.

The gamine shuddered and sucked in a breath. "Yes. I do."

She was thankful that tear that finally slid free fell upon the cheek that was turned away from him.

Yes, she loved Marius. A man who always regarded her as a friend but never as an equal. A man who treated her with respect but always pitied her more than he liked her. A man who knew full well of her plight but never offered her more than a few francs for it.

She supposed she always hated him a little bit for that.

Joly continued to comb her hair in silence. The tension in the air felt unbearably awkward and suddenly Eponine was dying for the whole thing to be over. But as the minutes continued to tick by, the boy showed no sign of stopping.

"Sorry," he said, noticing her restlessness. "There's a whole lot of nits in here, I just want to make sure I get them all out."

Eponine nodded in answer to the boy's apologetic smile. _He has a nice smile, actually,_ she thought to herself. _When__ he's not acting stupid, that is._

Before she realized what she was doing, the gamine found her eyes traveling up to examine the boy's face above her. Thankfully, his gaze was fixed upon his task and he did not notice her staring intently at him. _Such green eyes,_ she noted as her own eyes continued to roam, drinking in every detail of his countenance. That unkempt mop of hair. Those curling bangs that fell over his eyes. Those bushy eyebrows that danced this way and that as if they had a life of their own. Those chapped lips that he licked every now and then in intense concentration. The dark stubble that lined his squared jaw - at least the part of it that wasn't hidden behind the bandages and bruising.

_Hmm_ … well, he certainly wasn't handsome. Not like Marius. But he could be comely in his own way, she supposed. Then again, she was hardly in any position to judge anyone on their physical appearance.

"Eponine?"

The gamine nearly jumped out of her seat. With a gasp, she realized that the boy eyes were now fixed directly on hers. He cocked an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face.

"And just what were you _looking_ at, mon cherie?"

Eponine choked, her cheeks turning so red they felt ready to burst. "I wasn't looking at _anything_, idiot!"

"Oh, so we're back to 'idiot' now, are we?" he chortled. "That was your typical reaction all those times I've caught you _staring_ at me."

"I wasn't _staring,_ you dolt!"

"Ohoho, yes you were! _So_ …" He winked at her. "Do you like what you see?"

"Shut up before I bust your chin open again, you stupid, ugly buffoon!"

"Aww … now we're back to 'ugly' too?" Joly stuck out his bottom lip. "Oh, I'm _crushed_, Eponine."

The gamine growled and crossed her arms, but then she noticed beneath his playful expression there was real hurt in his eyes. "Maybe you're not _that_ ugly, M'sieur," she mumbled.

Joly's eyes shot wide. He poked at his ear. "Sorry, I think I have earwax building in here. Can you repeat that once again for me, Eponine?"

"I _said_ …" she gritted out through her teeth. "Maybe you aren't _that_ ugly."

His eyes lit up. "I'm _not?_"

"No, but that doesn't make you _handsome_ either, M'sieur."

"B-but …" the boy squeaked, his mouth stretching into the stupidest grin she'd ever seen. "I'm not _ugly!_"

"Maybe, but you're still _stupid_, though," she grumbled.

"Ohoho, I'll take whatever compliment I can get!" Joly declared with a hearty laugh. Then he set the comb down and said, "And I have some good news for you too, Eponine. I'm pretty sure I've combed out the last of the nits, so we're ready to start rinsing."

The gamine's chest lifted in sudden relief. "We're finished, M'sieur?"

"Yes! Well, except for the rinsing out part. Wait right there while I fetch the water."

After wiping his hands off on the towel, Joly stood up and danced his way out of the door. Eponine could scarcely contain her excitement when he returned with two pitchers of water in his hands. _Thank God ... it's over, _she thought to herself as he leaned over and began to pour. The cool splash of the water was absolute heaven against her scalp. All the air left her body in a long, sweet exhale as she felt the stinging alcohol finally wash away.

The boy leaned closer and stroked one hand through her mane, making sure the water reached every strand. Eponine couldn't help but smirk as she felt his fingers sweep away the shriveled corpses of the vanquished lice into the drain below.

"Do you mind if I soap your hair for you too, Eponine?"

The gamine's eyes widened. "Soap?" she gasped.

"Mm-hm." The boy held up the small yellow cake for her to see.

_Soap!_ Eponine's mouth dropped open, breathless with excitement and disbelief. To her eyes, he might as well have been holding a bar of gold in his hand. _Soap!_

"Oh, yes!" she cried. "Please do, M'sieur! Yes!"

Joly chuckled at her, amused and perplexed. "Sure thing, Eponine."

As he began to the rub the soap between his hands, Eponine trembled in anticipation. It had been so long since she felt the cleansing sensation of soap against her skin. And then the boy got to work, working his fingers deeply through her hair as the sweet smell of the lather filled the air. Eponine let out a long exhale. The sensation of his fingers brushing against her scalp coupled with the tickle of the bubbles against her soiled skin felt … _incredible_. In fact, she thought she had never felt so pampered. The sensations were warm and perturbing and awkward and wonderful, and she had no idea what to make of them.

And all too soon, it was over.

"Alright, we're all done now, Eponine!" Joly declared, pouring the last of the water over her scalp. Then, humming softly to himself, he withdrew his arm …

And his hand brushed the whole length of her cheek, leaving a streak of soapy water behind.

Eponine's whole body became rigid and her eyes shot wide. "Oh!" Joly exclaimed, yanking his hand back. "S-sorry! Sorry!" he spluttered, grasping at the towel at her neck and wiping at her cheek. "S-sorry about that, Eponine! I didn't mean … sorry!"

"I-It's alright, M'sieur," the gamine stammered breathlessly, feeling the heat explode through her skin. She steered her mind away from the fact that his brief, sudden touch had sent tingles through her body all the way down to her toes.

"H-here," he said, offering her a shaking hand. "Let me help you up."

"M-merci, M'sieur," she replied, placing her own shaking hand in his and allowing him to lift her up to her feet. Eponin then took a moment to rub the towel over her hair, shivering as she inhaled the scent of the cleansed out strands. She'd hadn't felt so clean in years. Everything inside of her wanted to jump back into the tub and scrub down her entire body.

"So …" she said as she handed the towel back to Joly. "Are we really done here, M'sieur?"

"Well," he said, guiding her out of the washroom and towards the door. "I would like to check up with you in about a week or so. Just to make sure the lice don't make a surprise reappearance. That is … if you'd be willing to come back."

Eponine stared at the floor, picked at her dress. "S-sure, M'sieur. That'd be fine."

The two stood there in front of the door for a moment, glancing awkwardly toward and away from one another.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" he asked.

The gamine shook her head. "No, that's fine. But merci, M'sieur."

"Eponine, the streets are dangerous at night. I wouldn't mind walking with you, really."

"_'Ponine_."

Joly blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

The gamine cleared her throat and wrung her hands awkwardly. "You … you can call me _'Ponine_ if you'd like, M'sieur. A lot of people do."

Joly just stared at her blankly at first. "A-alright then," he said after a moment, a smile overtaking his cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind … '_Ponine._"

The gamine smirked at him. "That's more like it, M'sieur. And don't you worry about me. I know these streets better than anyone."

Joly chuckled. "Yes, I guess you do."

Eponine nodded, satisfied, then turned to pull the door open. "Bonsoir then, M'sieur …"

"'Ponine, wait."

The gamine spun around, frowning as the boy held up a hand signaling her to wait and then vanished into the kitchen. He reemerged but a moment later with a loaf of fresh bread in his hand. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "I think you need this more than I do."

The gamine gaped up at him, feeling the spongy dough within her fingers as its delicious scent filled her nostrils. "M'sieur, I can't take this!"

"You can and you will. Take it and share it with your sister. And please …" He winked. "It's _Joly._"

Eponine just stared at bewilderedly. "Merci ... _Joly_," she said after a moment.

The boy let out a cheer. "Now _that's_ more like it!" He patted her shoulder. "Now, I know you probably don't need to, but just promise me you'll be careful walking home, alright?"

What happened next Joly could scarcely believe.

She looked up at him and she _smiled._ A warm, grateful, _beautiful_ smile that broke across her face like the rising sun.

"Alright, I will," she said, and in a sudden rush of boldness she gave him a playful wink of her own. She pushed the door open behind her and stepped out. "Bonsoir … _Joly._"

The boy stared after her, his lips parted and his eyes wide. "B-bonsoir …_ 'Ponine_."

And with that, she vanished, leaving him standing there alone, the smell of her soapy hair still filling the apartment.

XXXXXXXXX

_AN: Would you believe when this plot bunny first popped into my head, I thought it would just be a one-shot? HA!_

_Only reason I got this next one out so fast is that the Joly and Eponine in my head just won't freakin' leave me alone! Seriously, every time I sit down to actually do my homework, they keep screaming at me, "Write us! Write us! Right now!__" It's MADDENING. I have SCHOOL you two, haha!_

_Thanks so much again to everyone who's voiced their support. I really, really appreciate it! Coming up next … Eponine suddenly finds herself in a position where _she _has to take care of _Joly … _stay tuned!_

_Sigh … but seriously, I need to get these papers done first …_


	4. Chapter 4

_Six days later …_

Eponine's feet were cracked and bleeding by the time she made it back to the Gorbeau House. The target of her father's latest scam lived on the other side of town and, as usual, it fell upon her to act as his thieving little carrier pigeon.

Wincing with each step, she trudged her way up the stairs and stumbled through the door to their hovel. Without even bothering to greet anyone, the gamine crossed the room, collapsed onto the mattress and began rubbing her sore and tender soles.

"Well?" Monsieur Thenardier barked impatiently from behind his desk. "Was the job a success, or what?"

Eponine nodded and dug into her pocket. "Eight francs, Papa. And that's all the old man would give me."

The old Thenardier chuckled gleefully as he walked over to retrieve the coins from her hand. "Excellent." He ruffled her hair. "Well done, my girl. We'll feast like kings tonight, that we will."

The gamine rolled her eyes as she watched him grab his coat and head out toward the door.

"I'll be back in an hour. Get the fire going, my love. There'll be dinner for us all when I return."

The sour-faced Madame Thenardier just shook her head as the door swung shut behind him. The family knew by now that if he came back with _anything_ that night, it would be a bottle of brandy and a long list of excuses.

"Well," she huffed, turning to her oldest daughter. "While _he's_ off gambling away our hard-earned spoils, why don't you go and filch us some vittles 'fore we starve ourselves, girl?"

Eponine grunted painfully. "Fine. Just give me a minute. My feet are still bloody raw from all this running around."

"Ooh, well aren't you just a precious little princess," the Madame snapped. "And while you're busy resting your porcelain feet _your highness_, 'Zelma and I are gonna be shrinking into a pile of skin and bones about your throne."

"Oh yeah?" Eponine huffed, crossing her arms. Even after eight years of poverty, some remnants of the spoiled brat she once was still remained in her. "Well if you're starving so much, why don't _you _fetch your own vittles, you lazy old cow?"

"Why you rotten little – !"

A violent cough from Azelma broke them out of their argument. Shaking, the poor girl hunched over on her side of the mattress and clutched her chest as she continued to hack.

"'Zelma?" Eponine scooted over and put a hand to the girl's forehead. "'Zelma, what's wrong? You sick?"

Madame Thenardier sniffed indifferently. "Oh, she's been hacking like that all day. Just you wait, she's gonna give it to us all by the end of the week."

Eponine shot her mother a poisonous look. Sometimes she wondered if she hated her even more than she hated her father. For adoring her and Azelma so dearly as children and then allowing that love to dry up so easily when they grew older.

She turned back to Azelma, who smiled weakly. "Don't worry, 'Ponine," she croaked. "It's just a little cold. I'm fine." And then her face twisted as she began to cough again.

Eponine's face paled and she began to rub along her sister's back. "'Zelma …" Taking in the girl's sickly pallor, an idea suddenly came to her. She leaned in close to her ear. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I know a place where I can get you some medicine, alright? I'll bring some back to you when I get the food."

"From him?" Azelma rasped, glancing up at her through teary eyes. "From the boy who gave you that delicious bread?"

Eponine's eyes widened in panic. "Azelma!" she hissed.

"What are you two whispering 'bout over there?" Madame Thenardier demanded.

"Nothing," Eponine answered. Then, wincing, she staggered to her feet and hobbled toward the door. "I'll be back soon."

"Good," the Madame huffed. "And bring me back a good big bottle of whiskey to wash the food down with, you hear?"

"Oh, get it yourself!"

Eponine flew out the door so quickly that she did not realize there was someone standing on the other side. She stopped herself just second too late before slamming into the teetering armful of books, knocking two of them off of the stack and nearly barreling over the handsome neighbor who was bearing them.

"M'sieur Marius!" she exclaimed, her cheeks reddening when his face came into view. She quickly bent down to pick the books off the floor. "Pardon, M'sieur! I did not see you there!"

The student laughed. "Oh, that's alright, 'Ponine. Just put those two right back on top of the stack here for me, would you?"

Eponine nodded, pausing to hold up one book for inspection. "Where you going with all these books anyway, M'sieur? You can't be having any classes now."

"Oh no, 'Ponine. These are all for my meeting with Les Amis de l'ABC tonight."

"Oh?" She paged through one curiously. "And what are these books about then, M'sieur?"

"Oh, just military tactics," Marius replied, giving her a patronizing smile. "Not the sort of things you would really understand."

The gamine frowned at him. She really couldn't stand the way Marius treated her like a child sometimes. Or the way he acted like he was so much smarter than she'll ever be.

"And what about you, 'Ponine? Where are you off to so late?"

She shrugged. "Oh, just fetchin' us some dinner, M'sieur. And 'Zelma's got a cough, so I'll be dropping by M'sieur Joly's apartment to see if he can spare her something for it."

Marius' eyes widened. "Oh, Joly wouldn't be home right now, 'Ponine. He's waiting for me at the Café Musain with the rest of Les Amis."

"Oh?" A devious smile spread across her face. "Well, in that case, it looks like we both need to be going there, so …" She batted her eyelashes. "How about we walk _together_, M'sieur?"

"Hmm …" Marius looked up thoughtfully. "That does sound like a fine idea. Say! 'Ponine, will you do me a favor?"

The gamine's eyes lit up. "_Anything_, M'sieur!"

"Carry these for me, will you?"

"What … _oof!_"

Before she could even respond, Eponine found herself staggering under the sudden weight of the heavy books that had been shoved right into her arms.

"Ah, that's better!" Marius exclaimed, grabbing the fancy leather briefcase he had left by the door. "Merci, Eponine. It's hard to carry all that _and_ my briefcase at the same time." He started off toward the stairs. "This way! And watch your step on the stairs, alright?"

Her face reddening with frustration, the gamine ducked her head and grumbled, "Coming, M'sieur …"

XXXXXXXXX

"Oh Mon Dieu, Bossuet, look. My hands are shaking again!"

"Your hands are always shaking, Joly."

"And just this afternoon I checked my tongue and there was a _sore_ on it, Bossuet! A _sore_!"

"That doesn't mean _anything_, Joly."

M'sieur Joly was having a very bad day.

First, he was absolutely convinced his wounded chin had gotten infected. He'd removed the bandages just a few days before and since then he'd been monitoring the swelling with intense apprehension. And just that morning the bruises had taken on this ghastly, greenish tinge that he was certain indicated the onset of some form of blood poisoning. ("Not it doesn't, Joly," Bossuet had groaned.) And now the telltale symptoms have been setting in throughout the day … clammy skin, shaking hands, shallow breath … ("You're just being paranoid, Joly.")

Second, his darling Musichetta was sulking again, and for the life of him he could not figure out why. He'd just gone to visit her that morning and she simply stared down at the floor with a dour look on her face, and she refused to acknowledge or speak to him at all. She'd been like that all week, really, and when she's not giving him the silent treatment she's moaning about how he doesn't love her in that pitiful way of hers. Perhaps it was simply that time of the month, or at least Joly hoped it was, because he was certain that he had done nothing to upset her.

Third, he had been receiving no sympathy whatsoever from his so-called friends at Les Amis. They laughed at him when he lamented about his chin and they rolled their eyes when he moaned about Musichetta. In fact, Bossuet and Grantaire have decided to amuse themselves by taking turns sneezing into his drink, which they _know_ he hates.

In fact, he had just finished dumping out his latest cup when Eponine came stumbling through the door.

At first he did not even recognize it was her. All he saw was a walking pile of books staggering unsteadily after Marius. But then the books slammed down upon the table and the body behind them flopped onto the nearest chair with a grunt. And then all at once her telltale russet hair and irritated scowl came into view.

"Oh! Eponine! Hey!"

The gamine glanced up at the approaching bourgeois boy and smiled tiredly. "Bonsoir, M'sieur Joly."

Joly's joy upon seeing her slowly evaporated when he saw her wincing and rubbing her reddened feet. He glanced at the book pile, and then he swung upon the student to whom they belonged, who was chatting up Feuilly and ignoring Eponine completely.

"Marius! Y-you made her carry your _books_ for you? For God's sake, Marius, she's not your slave!"

The student turned about, startled by this sudden show of anger from his typically happy-go-lucky classmate. "Oh, I … I didn't _make_ her, Joly. I-I just asked her for her help since we were both walking here and …"

"She's a _lady_, Marius!" Joly cried, causing the other students to stop their conversations and watch the scene in astonishment. "You don't just ask a lady to carry your books for you. Have you no manners!"

Joly heard some snickering as his comrades beheld the ragged little guttersnipe he had referred to as a lady. But his attentions were only for Eponine, whose eyes were fixed on the face of the blinking, bewildered Marius. Joly heart sank at the intense hurt in her gaze, and he understood the reason behind it. It was more than obvious from Marius' expression that he did not think of Eponine as a lady at all.

"W-well …" Marius stammered at last. "I-I guess you have a point." Smiling, he turned and patted the gamine on the shoulder. "S-sorry about that, 'Ponine. And merci, again."

Eponine gave a half smile but she did not look at him. "You're welcome, M'sieur."

"And here," he said, setting a coin down on the table. "A little something for your trouble."

The gamine glanced just once at the coin and her face fell. "M'sieur, I don't want your …"

But Marius had already gone.

"Um ... Eponine?" Joly waited a breath for her to turn to him. As she lifted her gaze to his, he could clearly see the forlornness in her eyes. He smiled for her. "Here," he said, taking a small, round container from his leather purse and placing it into her hand. "It's some salve for your feet. It'll sting a bit at first, but it'll help with the pain."

The gamine stared down at the container, weighing it in her hand. _Mon Dieu … _not once had Marius even acknowledged the fact her feet were hurting so badly.

But this boy … as usual, nothing escaped him.

She looked up at him and smiled. Fully and genuinely. "Merci, M'sieur Joly."

Joly's excitement upon seeing her smile was so immense he feared his grin would split his face.

"Hey, Joly!" Grantaire suddenly called out from the table in the back. "Cheating on 'Chetta now, are we?"

Redness burst across Joly's face and he swung around. "N-n-no!" he spluttered. "Eponine here is just a friend. I'm not cheating on anyone."

"Ohoho, _right_," Grantaire said, rolling his eyes. "I forgot. It's not cheating. It's being … 'POL-Y-A-MO-ROUS,'right?"

And with that the whole table about him erupted into roars of laughter.

"Just ignore him," Joly whispered, turning back to Eponine. He nodded down toward her foot, which she'd already begun coating with the salve. "How does it feel?"

Eponine let out a contented sigh. "Much better. Merci, M'sieur."

"My goodness, 'Ponine. Do you … own any shoes at all?"

"None that are good for walking in, M'sieur."

Joly's eyes softened. "And … how about those lice, 'Ponine? They haven't been bothering you again, have they?"

"Nope," she replied, giving her hair a little shake. "Not since I saw you last, M'sieur." And then, "Say, M'sieur … would you happen to have anything for coughs in that purse of yours?"

"Coughs?" Joly looked down and dug in his purse for a moment. "Hmm … oh, well this is embarrassing. I think I used up the last of my bottle and forgot to replace it. I should have some back at my apartment, though." He looked up. "Why? You're not sick, are you, 'Ponine?"

The gamine shook her head. "Not me, M'sieur. It's my sister Azelma. She's started to come down with it this morning and … I was hoping if you wouldn't mind just sparing a little …"

"Oh, of course, 'Ponine!" Joly exclaimed cheerfully. "Just come back with me to the apartment later and I'll be happy to give you a bottle." And then he reached up to ruffle her hair. "And then I can check to make sure all those nasty lice are really gone, alright?"

But the moment his fingers touched her hair, Eponine stiffened and jerked away. Startled, Joly withdrew his hand immediately, and the gamine fixed him with a look that wasn't quite angry but reproving all the same.

"S-sorry," he stammered uneasily.

Eponine rolled her eyes and went back to rubbing the salve over her foot. Joly ducked his head, cursing himself that he allowed a wall had gone up between him and the gamine once again.

Watching her closely now, Joly could clearly see the vestiges of the beauty she could have been had her life turned out differently. The slight tinge of rosiness within her sallow cheeks. Those elegant cheekbones hidden behind the weathering of sun and starvation upon her skin. Those almond eyes that shined like pools of water with a million thoughts swimming in their depths. Where others saw ugly, he saw intrigue. And what others would consider abrasive, he found quite adorable.

_You are far too generous for your own good_, his friends would tell him.

At the sound of footsteps, Joly turned to see Enjolras walking up to their table with Marius following close behind. The marble leader's face was stern as he stared down at the gamine. He cleared his throat, causing her head to jerk up in surprise.

"Mademoiselle," Enjolras said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Eponine blinked at him, and then her eyes narrowed into slits. "And why is that, _M'sieur?_"

"The meetings of Les Amis de l'ABC are strictly closed to women, Mademoiselle."

Eponine's eyes shot wide and she choked. "W-what? What kind of stupid rule is that? You've let my little brother sit in on your meetings, so why can't I?"

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but the matters we must discuss are restricted only to the members of our society."

"No, that's not what you said, _M'sieur_," Eponine snapped, standing to her feet. "You said I couldn't stay because I was a _girl._ How the heck is that fair!"

"H-hey, come now, 'Ponine," Marius said, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. "No need to get all worked up. We're just going to be talking about a lot of political nonsense. Most of this stuff would probably fly right over your head, anyway …"

"I'm not _stupid_, M'sieur!" Eponine suddenly shrieked, wrenching herself away from him as the whole room fell into an astonished hush. She grabbed one of the books. "I could have been a student just like any one of you, so quit treating me like I'm _stupid!_"

Marius face blanched with shock and he lifted his hands. "I … I'm sorry, Eponine. I know you're not stupid, I just …"

His words choked off when Eponine suddenly slammed the book down onto the table. Face crumpling, she swung toward the door. "If you don't want me here, then fine. I'm going!"

"Eponine!" Joly ran forward, tried to grasp her by the elbow. "Eponine, wait …"

"_Don't_ …"

Her arm swung out but then stopped itself when she saw who it was. Their eyes met for but a moment, revealing the blur of emotions in her gaze. Pain, anger, despair, confusion …

Then her face hardened and she turned away. "I'll see you later, M'sieur."

And with a furious slam of the door, she was gone.

Astonished silence fell over the café. The members of Les Amis glanced awkwardly at each other, not quite sure as to what to make of the scene. Then, from the back table, a thoroughly drunk Grantaire suddenly slammed his fist down on the wood and let out a roar of guffaws.

"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, raising a glass. "What is it with you and moody girls, eh Joly?"

XXXXXXXXX

Joly was the last man to leave the café that night. He would have walked home with all the rest of his friends as usual, but Madame Hucheloup stopped him on the way out and begged him to please, please, please check the goiter on her neck before he left. After giving a thorough examination and granting the good Madame a kiss on her neck for good measure, the exhausted medical student ventured out into the streets alone.

He never told anyone this, but Joly was absolutely terrified of walking through Paris in the dark. There was simply no telling who was lurking around in the shadows, and as one of the least … well … _physically capable_ members of Les Amis, he knew that if any villains were to attack, he'd be utterly at their mercy. One would never realize just how afraid he was from the way he was strolling along and humming happily at the top of his register. But he jumped at every sudden noise and shivered at every sudden breeze, and any observer would quickly realize that he was humming to keep himself from going crazy.

It's hard to say when exactly he first realized that he was being followed. He was just passing under the shadow of the elephant statue when he came to a sudden stop in middle of the empty street. His voice died off, his heart pounding in his ears as he sensed the unmistakable presence of a second being.

Then … he couldn't say for sure how he knew. But he did. With a smile of relief, he glanced toward the elephant's right flank.

"Eponine?"

She emerged as a shadow. At that distance, she could have been a stray cat or one of Gavroche's little urchin friends. But as the shadow took shape, Joly could see that it was unmistakably her, and she did not seem at all angry or surprised that she had been caught.

"Nothing gets past you, does it, M'sieur."

Joly laughed at that. "Not much, no." He glanced down. "How are your feet, 'Ponine?"

The gamine shrugged, lifting up one heel. "Oh, they don't hurt so much anymore."

"My goodness, 'Ponine, you haven't been waiting for me this whole time, have you?"

"No, not the whole time. I went out and got some food after I left the café. Then I came back and waited for you."

Joly smiled. "Well, I am very happy to see you, 'Ponine. Although I sort of expected you would be walking home with Marius."

The corner of the gamine's mouth twitched. "Well … you see …" She stared down at the ground. "I think I'm still a little bit angry with him."

Her answer caught Joly by surprise. The gamine just shrugged and continued, "Anyway, I still need to get that medicine for Azelma. So …" She stepped past him and started down toward the end of the street. "Shall we walk together, M'sieur?"

It took Joly a moment before his body responded and he stumbled after her. "Y-yes! Of course, 'Ponine."

The gamine smirked as he fell into step beside her, a gesture which Joly found utterly adorable. As they walked, he had to resist the urge to take her by the arm and lead her home like a real lady. He knew she wouldn't like that, and he was conscious enough to leave a comfortable space between their bodies. While he was beyond pleased she was treating him much friendlier than before, he was quite aware the trust he had gained with her was still fragile and uncertain.

"I forgot to thank you, M'sieur," the gamine said after a moment.

"Hm? Thank me for what, Eponine?"

"For telling Marius off. And for standing up for me earlier. You really didn't have to do that."

"Oh." He chuckled. "I would have thought you would be angry at me for that."

Eponine shook her head. "Nuh-uh. He certainly deserved it."

Joly stared at her in astonishment. "Well … you're welcome, 'Ponine. I mean, someone had to say it. You deserve to be treated much better than that."

The gamine picked at her dress and did not answer.

"And do not be too angry with him," Joly continued. "I mean, Marius is a good man. His heart is in the right place. But he is so naïve. Out of all of us he's probably had the most sheltered life, 'Ponine. And he tends to be blind to other people's feelings."

"I know." Eponine said quietly, closing her eyes. "And … I suppose I'll be forgiving him again. Just like I always do."

Joly was at a loss as to how to answer.

They walked on in silence until they reached the bridge overlooking the Seine. Then Eponine's eyes suddenly lit up and she rushed over to the railing.

"Wait, M'sieur! Can we stop here for just a moment?" And then she leaned over the railing and stared down into the water below.

Joly watched her bewilderedly. "Why? What are you looking at, 'Ponine?"

The gamine chuckled, resting her chin upon her elbows. "Oh, just the view, M'sieur."

" … Oh."

Joly nodded numbly and stepped over beside her. There, reflected upon the surface of the water, was Paris shining in all its glory. The lights and shapes of the city danced upon the waves in streaks, almost like an impressionist painting in motion. To the student, the reflections looked less like a city and more like a galaxy of golden light, with a hundred suns bobbing along the waves and other glimmers scattered about like stars.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Eponine said in a wistful voice. "It looks almost like there's another Paris down there. A much lovelier Paris, though. Because there's only lights down there. It's a city made all out of light." She smirked. "Like Heaven, I suppose."

Joly stared at her, mesmerized by the way the reflected lights danced within the brown pools of her eyes. In the glow of the lantern, she looked … _beautiful._ Breathtakingly so. The light surrounded her like a halo, outshining all her imperfections and making her appear as if she was an angel come up from the depths of this strange Heaven of which she spoke. The characteristic hardness in her face, built up from so many years of hardship, seemed to have almost melted away beneath the light. She had never seemed so childlike to him, so innocent. In that moment he remembered just how very young she really was.

"I've thought of going there before, you know?" she said.

Joly blinked. "W-what, Eponine?"

"I've thought of going down there." She pointed. "To the prettier Paris."

Her words did not register in his mind at first. And then all at once he felt a cold pit of dread in his stomach. "What … what do you mean by that, Eponine?"

The gamine just gazed down into the water quietly. Then, after a moment, she stepped away from the railing. "Let's keep walking, M'sieur," she said.

Joly stood there frozen, watching dumbly as the gamine continued on her way across the bridge. He glanced once more at the water but had to wrench his eyes away. Because this time he couldn't see the lights of Paris down there. Only the cold, unending blackness that lay beneath.

"T'is a lovely, warm night, isn't it?" Eponine mused as he caught up with her. "My family used to live under this bridge, you know."

"Y-yes," he stammered. "Marius did mention that."

"That was in the wintertime, though. It was dreadfully cold. I really wouldn't have minded living down there if the nights were all warm like this." She glanced up at the sky. "Too bad there are no stars. I think there might be a storm coming, M'sieur."

Joly laughed nervously. "Oh, I certainly hope not, 'Ponine."

"Why?" The gamine halted in mid-step. "Do you not like storms, M'sieur Joly?"

He laughed again. The sound was shakier than before. "N-no, not particularly. Do you?"

She grinned. "Oh, I _love_ them."

"… Do you?"

"Oh yes, I think they're great fun."

Then, suddenly, there was a rustling noise and the wind swept through them, lifting up Eponine's hair and skirt. Her eyes widened in excitement. "Well look!" she laughed. "What did I tell you? There's a real storm rolling in soon, M'sieur."

Then there was a flash. A brilliant white flash that lit up the dark clouds overhead. All at once Joly's body turned to ice. Willing himself to breathe, he lifted a trembling hand to his chest as if to calm his racing heart.

"Hey … M'sieur Joly?" Eponine cocked her head, bewilderedly taking in his pale countenance. Then she laughed. "Mon Dieu, you weren't kidding, were you? Are you really that afraid of storms, M'sieur?"

And then an echoing _boom_, like a cannon's blast, resounded across the water. Joly gasped aloud and he swore that for just one moment his heart stopped completely beneath his hand.

"M'sieur?" Eponine frowned. "Hey, M'sieur. You okay?"

The boy remained frozen for a moment, incapable of giving any form of answer. Then, suddenly, he grabbed her by the wrist and they were both running across the bridge. "'Ponine, let's go!"

The gamine let out a squeak of protest, but Joly just continued to drag her along. To his immense relief, his apartment building lay just a block away from the end of the bridge. But as the wind picked up and more lightning flashed across the sky, the boy could feel his fear increasing with every step.

He could scarcely hear Eponine's yells as he pushed her through the front door and dragged her rather roughly up the stairs. The moment they stumbled into his room, Joly released her and ran straight to the armchair over by the fireplace. And then he hunched over it, gripping both arms with all his strength as he shook and gasped desperately for breath.

"M'sieur!" Eponine cried, staring at him dumbfounded and rubbing her aching wrist. "M-M'sieur Joly, what …"

With a shuddering breath, the boy's eyes clenched shut and he swallowed. "I-I'm fine." He lifted a shaky hand to her. "Just give me a moment, Eponine."

The gamine leaned back against the wall, watching as he lifted a trembling finger to the side of his neck. He fiddled in his pocket until he pulled out a small watch, which he opened and held up before his eyes. For several agonizing seconds he remained in that position, his ragged breathing ever gradually beginning to slow. Then, finally, he closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy exhale as if in relief.

"S-s-sorry, 'Ponine …" he stammered, turning to face her. He cracked a nervous smile. "Are you alright?"

Eponine's mouth fell open. "Am _I _alright? Mon Dieu, M'sieur, what the heck was that?"

"Oh, uh, sorry about that," Joly chuckled sheepishly. He ran a hand through his hair. "I … I don't really like thunderstorms all that much, 'Ponine, that's all." He cleared his throat. "Now … what was it I was supposed to get for you?"

Eponine's mouth open. Closed. "The cough medicine, M'sieur …"

"Right! Right, the cough medicine. Um, here …" He stumbled over to the table on the other side of the room. He fumbled through the vials, knocking some over, until he lifted up one small dark-colored bottle.

"Here we are," he said, walking over to Eponine. She could see his hands were shaking as he placed the bottle in her hand. "J-just make sure you don't give your sister more than one tablespoon every six hours or so … a-and that she washes it down with some water. Okay?"

"Y-yes, M'sieur …" Eponine breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from his ashen face. She swallowed. "Um … M'sieur, I …"

"Right! Your hair! I-I was supposed to check your hair for you, wasn't I?"

"Yes, M'sieur, but …"

"Here! I'll make it quick so you can get home before ... before the storm ... hits ..."

He shuddered at the last words, but regained himself. Then his hands were buried in her mane, feeling gently yet meticulously along her scalp. The gamine watched him worriedly, noting the sweat that was trickling down from his temples. He was leaning in so close now that she could feel his warm breath against her cheeks, and the feel of his trembling hands against her skin was making her tremble as well.

"A-alright, good." He breathed out and his hands once more fell to his sides. "Looks like those lice are good and gone now, 'Ponine."

"Are … are you alright, M'sieur?"

"Who, me?" The boy laughed unconvincingly. "Oh, I'm fine, 'Ponine. Perfectly fine!"

And then the noises came in a sudden, angry rush. First the slam of the wind, then the furious cadence of the rain, and then a roar of thunder so mighty it seemed to shake the very walls. White light exploded through the room from the window beyond and the boy froze like a statue, the blood draining completely from his face.

"M'sieur?" Eponine whispered, watching bewilderedly as the shaking slowly overtook his body once again. Reaching forward, she grasped him carefully by the arms but he did not seem to register her touch whatsoever.

"M'sieur …" she tried again, giving him a little shake.

Then panic blossomed in her chest when she realized he wasn't even breathing.

"_M'sieur!_ Hey, snap out of it! M'sieur! _Joly!_" Her head swung about. _What was going on! _"Oh, Mon Dieu … M'sieur, you need to sit down. Come on."

She pushed against him gently, leading him to the armchair. Though his feet moved, his eyes remained unfocused and he did not seem to see her at all. With a grunt, the gamine shoved him down into the chair and knelt down beside him.

"M'sieur. Can you hear me? Say something. M'sieur …"

An explosion of light. A crash of thunder. With a cry, Joly jumped and curled up into a ball on the chair. To Eponine's utter amazement, the grown man began to rock back and forth upon the chair with his shoulders quivering and his head buried between his raised knees.

"M'sieur …" she leaned forward, not believing what she was seeing. "M'sieur, you can't be serious. You can't really be this afraid of a little thunder, are you?"

Another thunderclap boomed. The boy jumped with a high-pitched squeak. With a shudder, his hands reached up and grasped at his hair and he began to whimper like a child.

"M'sieur …" Distressed by his high-pitched whines, Eponine reached forward and started to rub along his back. "Come on, M'sieur. Just calm down. We're inside now. The storm can't hurt us in here."

"You don't understand …" He lifted his head just enough to reveal bleary, bloodshot eyes. "The thunder, 'Ponine! It … it …"

There was another flash of lightning and with a loud cry his head disappeared into the shelter of his knees once again.

"M'sieur …" Eponine turned toward the window and shook her head in frustration. "M'sieur, listen. I'm sorry, but I can't stay with you much longer." She began to stand. "The rain's getting harder. I need to leave now if I'm going to make it home …"

"_No!"_

His hand shot up, grasping her by the wrist and yanking her back down beside him.

"Don't go!" he gasped, his eyes wild and pleading. "Eponine, please don't go."

"M'sieur!" Irritated now, the gamine tried to yank her arm out of his hold. "M'sieur, I can't stay here. Let go of me!"

"_No!_" he insisted, gripping her tighter. "Eponine, you can't go out there!"

"Mon Dieu, M'sieur! The rain can't hurt me."

"No, but _lightning_ can!"

Then came a thunderclap so powerful that Eponine could feel the floorboards trembling beneath her. With a gasp, the boy ducked his head and began to shake even more violently. "_Please!_" he cried. "Please, 'Ponine. Just stay here. Talk to me. Distract me. Do anything, just don't go out there, _please!_"

Eponine gaped at him, horrified. She could see that he was truly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. _Mon Dieu …_ One hand lifted up and placed itself on his shoulder.

"H-h-hey …" she whispered quickly. "Hey, M'sieur, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere. Calm down, M'sieur. I … I'm staying."

He shivered once, squeezing her wrist tight. One arm wrapped around and hugged his knees tighter, the other pulling her closer until she was leaning up right against his side. Eponine squirmed uncomfortably, her eyes flitting about the room as if looking for help. _Mon Dieu, what the heck am I supposed to do now? _More lightning flashed, one after the other, and with each thundering boom she felt the boy give her hand a desperate squeeze.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" she cried, annoyance taking over in full. "Why the heck are you so scared of the lightning anyway?"

"B-b-because …" He flinched as another booming crash resounded through the walls. "P-p-people _die_ from lightning strikes, 'Ponine! They're terrible and … and _dangerous!_"

"But we're _inside_, M'sieur."

"B-but they're still out there!" More lightning flashed and he gasped. "I-I-I can _see_ them, Eponine! Even when I close my eyes!"

"Th-then don't think of them as lightning bolts, M'sieur! Think of them as … fireworks. Big, white fireworks. Imagine it's New Years and they're lighting fireworks in the sky. You have to like fireworks, don't you, M'sieur?"

The boy did not answer, but his trembling seemed to slow just a bit. Encouraged, the gamine patted his shoulder and continued on speaking.

"You know, Gavroche used to be afraid of thunderstorms too. Hard to believe, isn't it? Well ... don't tell him I told you, but he used to hide under the bed whenever there was a bad thunderstorm like this." She chuckled. "Now he loves them like I do."

Another flash lightning burst through the room. The boy whimpered but he didn't jump like he did before.

"You know what I used to think of when there's a lightning storm? I used to think the angels up there were having a great big sword fight in the middle clouds. I'd imagine the lightning were the great white sparks they made whenever their swords would clash together."

There was another roll of thunder. The boy squeezed her hand lightly, but his quivering was ever gradually starting to grow still.

"When I was a little girl, I used to sneak out of the house and go running off into the woods whenever there was a big storm like this. I know that sounds crazy, but I just loved watching storms. I'd go out there and sit in the mud, watching the trees light up and the branches thrash around over my head and the leaves come flying down on top of me like confetti. And then I liked to go to my favorite clearing where there were no trees so I could watch the lightning bolts zigzag their way across the sky. That was always my favorite part. It always looked so awesome. It was like I was watching this gigantic magic show in the sky. And the lightning didn't scare me at all."

She laughed. "Of course, my mother and father would get so mad at me. I'd try to sneak back into bed before they noticed, but … I got caught sometimes. But I never got hurt out there, M'sieur. Although … I did get sick one time." She shrugged. "Oh well. It was worth it."

Another thunderclap. The loudest one yet. But the boy did not react at all. The gamine turned to look at him, astonished.

"M'sieur?" she whispered. "M'sieur … are you all better now?"

No response. She shook her wrist lightly. "Hello? M'sieur …"

Then the boy let out a long, heavy _snore. _

Eponine's mouth fell open and she glanced down at the wrist that was still caught in his grasp. _What the … he's asleep! Mon Dieu, he fell asleep!_ She wiggled her wrist, trying escape without waking him, but the boy's fingers simply refused to budge. Her eyes widened in disbelief. _How ... __how the heck can his grip be so tight if he's blood _asleep!

"Don't go …" the boy groaned suddenly, and the gamine froze. The boy's eyes squeezed tight and he mumbled, "Don't go … please don't go …"

Eponine sighed, rolled her eyes. "I _have_ to, M'sieur."

"No … please … don't leave me ... _Maman."_

The gamine's heart immediately stopped in her chest. The boy's mouth turned downward and he whimpered ever so pitifully.

"Please don't go, _Maman_. Don't leave me … please …"

"I …" Eponine swallowed, her heart caught in her throat.

_Your mother?_

_Yes. Rest her soul._

_Oh! I ... um ... sorry!_

_Oh, don't feel bad. It was a long time ago anyway ..._

The boy suddenly squirmed and whined as if caught in the throes of a nightmare. Her heart leaping, the gamine shushed him tenderly, laying her hand on top of his.

"Don't worry," she whispered ever so gently. "I'm not going to leave you. I promise."

The boy's lips parted. "Maman ..." And then his chest rose up and he let out a long, happy sigh.

Eponine's heart throbbed at the peaceful look that spread over the boy's face like a ray of light breaking through the clouds. He almost reminded her of Gavroche, the way he looked when he slept. So childlike. He looked ... cute, almost.

"Maman …" the boy mumbled, squeezing her hand. "Sing to me, _Maman_. Please … sing me a lullaby …"

Eponine stared at him dumbly. "Um ..."

_A lullaby?_

Eponine didn't really know any lullabies. Her own maman had stopped singing them to her a long time ago, and she could not really remember them.

Except …

Well. There was that one song. That one song she used to sing to herself on those cold nights when the hunger wouldn't let her sleep.

Joly moaned. "Maman ... Maman, please ..."

Eponine gazed at his face, watching with alarm as his brow furrowed as if in distress once more. Sighing sadly, she rubbed her thumb over his hand and let the words of her lullaby pour out from her lips.

"_There is a castle on a cloud … I like to go there in my sleep … no filthy alleyways to creep … not in my castle on a cloud. _

"_There is a room that's full of food … there are a hundred boys and girls … nobody shouts or talks too loud … not in my castle on a cloud."_

She smirked bitterly. Like every pretty thing in her life, this tune had been stolen. She'd taken some liberties with the lyrics, of course, and quite honestly she used to hate that song. Just like she hated that pale, meager little girl to whom it first belonged.

_Cosette._

Eponine felt a pang in her heart at the memory of that girl's soot-stained, tearful face. Funny she should think of her now. What has become of her? Is she dead? Alive? Perhaps she too is living in a gutter somewhere, just as poor and miserable as she is.

The boy let out a groan, interrupting her thoughts. Hushing him quickly, she squeezed his hand and continued to sing. She sang on through the verses she had made up herself. Woeful, wishful refrains of a warm bed and a bubble bath and a nice dress to wear.

And then she reached the chorus of the song and she felt a rush of warmth sweep through her chest. But it was the kind of sharp, bittersweet warmth she knew would turn to pain by the end.

"_There is a M'sieur all in white, holds me and sings a lullaby … he's nice to see and he's soft to touch … he says, 'Ponine, I love you very much …"_

Her voice trembled upon the last words. She blinked, holding the tears back from the rims of her tired eyes. With a sigh, she laid her head against the arm of the chair and allowed sound of the rain to lull her into the final verse.

"_I know a place where no one's lost … I know a place where no one cries … crying at all is not allowed …"_

She let out a yawn and her eyes fluttered closed.

"_Not in my castle on a cloud …"_

XXXXXXXXX

_AN: Holy crap, that chapter was long! I think I'm seriously going to chop them down from here on out. And I can update faster that way too!_

_I really must express my sincerest gratitude to all my reviewers. I did not expect people to show so much love and support for this story. I really thank you all! You've made this story the most faved Joly fic on this site! (Although there's really only a few of them, and mine is only one of two Joly x Eponine fics that I can tell)_

_Hahaha, I'm pretty sure this isn't what you guys were thinking when I said Eponine would have to take care of Joly! But when I read about Joly's fear of thunderstorms, I just KNEW I had to include a scene like this. _

_I also must apologize because at one point a few days ago I meant to replace the original Chapter 2 with an updated version (just some wording/grammar stuff, nothing major), and I accidentally replaced it with the Chapter 2 of another one of my fanfics (OOPS!) I have no idea how many days that was up there before I realized the mistake and fixed it, but to anyone who tried to read Chapter 2 and were super-confused to suddenly be reading a story about Quaxo and Jemima from Andrew Lloyd Weber's _Cats_, SORRY! Haha._

_So … as for future updates, I have to be a little bit honest (DON'T KILL ME!) I'm currently writing two other stories for two other fanfic communities along with this one. (WHAT WAS I THINKING!) I'm going to go where the inspiration takes me, but to be fair to all my readers I'm going to strive to divide my time between all three of them. Since I've neglected my other two stories for quite a while due to this one, I'm pretty sure I'm going to update those first. But … I've finished my last finals and now it's summer, so hopefully now I can update everything in a timely manner! So please don't be mad at me and I promise not to take advantage of your patience. And feel free to drop a review! Love you guys! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Oh, haha! Just realized this week that the original lyrics were "If I could HEAL your wounds." It seems the dashing Mr. Redmayne took some liberties with the lyrics that I did not initially realize! Ah well, I still like my title and I plan to keep it. :)_

_As you can see, this one's shorter than the others, and I think I'll try to keep them more of this length just so I can update quicker. But then again, we'll see what'll happen as the story goes on. This couple may demand another longer scene in the near future, who knows!_

_Okay, on with the story! I do not own Les Miserables!_

XXXXXXXXX

Ten years ago …

"_La la la la la la la la … la la la la la la la …"_

_A knock at the door interrupted the pretty seven-year old girl in the middle of her song. She sat up straighter, perched atop her bed with a doll in her arms and called, "Maman? Is that you?"_

_The door creaked open ever so slightly, revealing the face of the ragged little girl who swept the floors around the inn. At the sight of her, the prettier girl's expression immediately turned cruel._

"_Oh, what do you want, you little hussy?" she spat, using the name her father so often called the girl._

_The dirty-faced little servant stared down at the floor. "S-sorry, Eponine. Madame told me to come in and scrub the floors in here."_

_The prettier girl huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Get in here. And you'd better not touch any of my things or I'll tell Maman on you, got it?_

"_Y-yes, Eponine."_

_The servant girl hobbled through the door, dragging in a bucket that was literally half her size. The girl was limping, so the other girl noticed, and she winced in pain when she got down on her scrawny knees to scour the floorboards. Rolling her eyes, the prettier girl turned her eyes away from her and resumed playing, humming and twirling her doll around like they were dancing at a fancy ball. Her papa had gotten her the doll as an early Christmas present, and it was made to look exactly like her. Same russet-colored curls. Same rosy little cheeks. Same cornflower-blue hat. Same lacy dress._

_Then the girl looked up and saw the servant girl was staring at her with longing in her wide blue eyes. She scowled and clutched the doll to her possessively. "What are you looking at?"_

_The servant girl lowered her gaze. "N-nothing, Eponine."_

"_Liar! You were looking at my doll, weren't you?"_

_The servant girl went on scrubbing and did not reply. _

"_You were! Well, you can't have it. No way I'll let you touch my doll with your filthy, smelly hands."_

_The servant girl's lip trembled a little, but she kept her head bowed and did not answer. Setting the doll on her pillow, the other girl jumped off of the bed and stomped her way over to where the little servant girl knelt._

"_Maman said scum like you don't deserve to have any toys. She said filthy, ugly, lazy girls don't get anything for Christmas because Santa doesn't like them."_

_The servant girl blinked back tears but still kept quiet. Infuriated that she was being ignored, the other girl lifted up her foot and stomped it down on the servant girl's hand. Hard._

"_Ow!" the girl cried, jumping to her feet and clutching her red and swollen hand to her chest. She looked up at her attacker through tear-filled eyes, causing the older girl to smirk in satisfaction._

"_You know what else Maman told me?" she sneered. "She said that your Mama is a WHORE. A dirty, ugly WHORE. You know what that means, Cosette? That means she sleeps around with men she's not married to. And that means … you're a little BASTARD."_

_The servant girl's eyes shot wide as if she'd been struck. _

"_That's why you have no Papa. And that's why no one loves you. 'Cuz no one loves the daughter of a stinky, dirty … AUGH!"_

_The girl reeled back as she was suddenly splashed in the face by a bucketful of sudsy water. It spilled into her mouth, choking her and making her gag, while the rest soaked through her dress and dribbled down onto the floorboards. _

"_You!" she shrieked, spitting out suds and swiping the stinging residue from her eyes. She blinked her eyes open and opened her mouth wide, ready to scream … _

_But then she froze, her heart suddenly clenching with fear upon sight of the servant girl's face._

_Rage. Pure rage was blazing through the girl's blue eyes. Her typically pale, sorrowful face was now a frightful shade of red and her little fists clutched the empty pail as if ready to smash it into the prettier girl's face. _

"_You're horrible," she said in a low voice. And then she threw the bucket down onto the ground, causing the other girl to jump with a frightened squeak. _

"_You're horrible," the girl repeated. "You're a horrible person, Eponine. You're mean and cruel and you treat people badly. You have a pretty face, but you're ugly on the inside."_

_The blood drained from the other girl's face. The servant girl stepped forward and she flinched, backing up one step. Blue eyes stared evenly into brown and warning churned within them like a coming storm._

"_My Maman says God is a God of justice," she said. "She says the wicked will be punished, in this world or the next. And you … you are very, very wicked, Eponine. And God is going to punish you for it one day!" _

_The other girl's mouth fell open and she began to shake. Every word the girl said ripped through her heart like a knife. Tears filled her eyes, she clenched her fist …_

_And then she smashed it straight into the servant girl's jaw._

"_Liar!" she screamed as the girl fell to the floor. And then she stomped over to the door, yanking it open. "Maman! Cosette threw a bucket of water at me! Come quick!"_

_Immediately there were heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. _

_The girl swung around, sneering spitefully at the cowering little wretch on the floor. The servant girl's mouth was swollen and bleeding, and the fury in her blue eyes had melted away into fear. And then the Madame of the inn was at the door. She took one look at her sopping wet daughter and swung upon the servant girl._

"_YOU FILTHY SLUT!"_

_Screaming profanities, the woman stomped across the room and yanked the sobbing servant girl up by her hair. The poor thing screamed and pleaded as the woman dragged her out into the hallway and loudly slammed the door shut behind her._

_The pretty girl ran up and pressed her ear to the door. She smiled when she heard the smack of heavy fists pounding into flesh and a girl's high-pitched cries of pain. Satisfied, she turned and carefully stepped over the puddle of water and suds spreading across the floorboards. And then she grabbed her doll up off of the bed and resumed her play again …_

XXXXXXXXX

"Eponine?"

The sleeping gamine shifted and groaned. From within the foggy depths of her slumber, she barely registered that tugging sensation at her wrist. And then something – _someone_ – squeezed her fingers gently, and then there was a voice at her ear.

"Hey, Eponine … wake up."

She awoke at last with tears in her eyes.

Blinking into awareness, she frowned as her mind slowly registered feel of the soft rug beneath her knees, and the coarse fabric against her cheek, and the warm flesh wrapped about her wrist and caressing her palm. "_What …?"_ She lifted her head, dizzy and disoriented …

And then she was face-to-face with the grinning bourgeois boy, their noses barely inches apart.

"_Ah!_" The gamine flew backward so fast she nearly knocked her head against the cocktail table. The boy laughed as she scrambled clumsily to her feet, gasping.

"Careful, 'Ponine! Don't hurt yourself."

"You …" Her head flew from side to side. "This isn't … where … why am I …"

The boy let out a loud yawn, stretching out his limbs. "Relax, 'Ponine. We're at my place. You came home with me last night. Remember?"

"I …" Slowly, sluggishly, she put a hand to her forehead. And then her face flushed red as the night's events slowly but vividly came rushing back to her.

She closed her eyes and groaned. "W-what time is it, M'sieur?"

"A little after eight. Sorry. I didn't want to wake you, but I have to get to class in an hour." He smiled. "You look really cute when you sleep."

Eponine choked and turned her face away. She was still too unsettled to make some kind of smart remark but she was also too mortified to look at that smiling face for another second.

"I heard you singing to me, too," she heard him continue. "Last night when I was asleep. It was beautiful, 'Ponine."

"You …" The gamine swallowed, still not looking at him. "You thought I was your mother."

He was silent a moment. "Yeah, I did. But … at some point, I knew it was you."

That was it.

The gamine rushed for the door. "I've got to go, M'sieur."

"'Ponine, wait!"

She froze as a hand grasped her by the wrist. She spun around before she could think to stop herself, meeting his gentle green eyes with her own flustered, half-angry orbs of brown.

"Please, won't you join me for breakfast first?" he said. "We could have some bread and tea together if you'd like."

The gamine nearly gagged. Waking up in this bourgeois boy's apartment was one thing, but having _breakfast_ with him? This was too much!

"No thank you, M'sieur, please, just I need to go home …"

"W-wait, 'Ponine!" Joly cried, tightening his grip on her wrist. "Um … it's still raining outside. Here …" He reached over with his free hand and grabbed one of the three umbrellas he had propped up next to the door. "Take this with you."

The gamine looked down at the umbrella and wrinkled her nose. "I don't need it, M'sieur, really."

"Please, 'Ponine," he insisted. "I don't want you to catch your death out there. For my own peace of my mind, please. Take it."

With a groan, she rolled her eyes and yanked it out of his hand. "Fine. Merci, M'sieur," she mumbled hurriedly, yanking the door open.

"Um, uh, _'Ponine_! Do … do you have the cough medicine with you?"

The gamine tapped the pocket she had sown into her dress. "Right here, M'sieur. Now excuse me …"

"'Ponine!"

"_What?_"

She whirled on him then, her expression one of pure exasperation. For a moment Joly just stared at her dumbly, his mouth hanging open as if he had forgotten what to say.

"What … is your favorite color?"

For several painful seconds, the gamine just stared at him, completely and utterly stupefied. She finally managed to choke out, "It's … blue. Why?"

"I ..." The boy cleared his throat, blushed. "No reason."

She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head. "Whatever, M'sieur."

She took one step out the door.

"'Ponine?"

_Sigh …_

"Yes, M'sieur?"

"You agreed to call me Joly, remember?"

She turned, lifting her tired gaze to meet his. For a moment she took in his warm smile, the sparkle of mischief in his eye.

How does this one boy manage to unsettle her so much?

"Okay … Joly."

His smile widened. "That's better. Alright, well …" Taking a step back, he lifted up an arm and then gave her a dramatic bow. "Au revoir, 'Ponine."

She blinked at him, then curtsied awkwardly. "Au revoir … Joly."

He grinned at her. She nodded at him once, hoping he didn't see the slight shudder in her shoulders.

And then she was gone.

XXXXXXXXX

Eponine quickly realized she wasn't used to carrying umbrellas.

It wasn't that the umbrella in question was particularly heavy. But Eponine was a creature of the streets. She was used to crouching low and darting her way through the crowds unseen, a feat not easily accomplished when you are holding a contraption made out of cloth and metal spokes over your head. And while she appreciated the shelter the umbrella provided her from the cold, gray drizzle, every now and then she couldn't resist stretching out an arm just to feel the splash of the raindrops along her skin.

Just as she loved thunderstorms … Eponine had learned to love the rain.

She loved the way they made the cobblestones shine like silver pebbles on the banks of a dabbling brook. She loved hearing the soothing cadence of the raindrops against the roof, and breathing in the musky smell of rainwater soaking into the earth. Sometimes where there was a warm summer rainstorm she would just step outside and stand beneath the downpour, lifting up her face to allow the rain to wash over her.

Somehow … the rain always made her feel like she was becoming clean again.

She was so distracted by her musings that she nearly bumped into a couple hurrying along the other way down the sidewalk. She stopped, glancing back over her shoulder as the pair continued on her way toward that carriage at the corner of the street. She could tell by their clothing that they were of the upper-crust bourgeois. The gentleman – long black coat and shiny top hat and boots. The lady – a pretty purple dress of lace and ribbons with a bonnet and shoes to match. Eponine especially regarded how the gentleman had a protective arm about the lady's waist, holding her close as he held up an umbrella over their heads, shielding them both from the rain.

A small smile tugged at the gamine's lips as she imagined what it would be like if M'sieur Marius were there with her then, beneath that umbrella. Holding her close to him, sheltering her, letting her share in his warmth. She could imagine him leaning over and whispering poetry into her ear as they walked, his voice a sweet melody against the soft cadence of the rain …

"Oh, Papa!"

A cry from the lady broke the gamine out of her reverie. She looked up to see the pair had stopped in their tracks, glancing over their shoulders. It seemed that the lady had dropped her purse onto the sidewalk just a few steps behind them. He saw the gentleman whisper something quickly to her before handing off the umbrella to her and then stepping out from beneath its shelter to retrieve the fallen purse.

Ah … so this wasn't a real couple after all. It was a father and daughter. While she could barely make out their faces through the rain and distance, it was now obvious to Eponine that the gentleman was considerably older than the lady. She could dimly make out the graying curls sticking out from under his hat, the crinkled lines of his face …

Eponine frowned, her eyes narrowing. _Wait a minute. He looks … familiar …_

As the gentleman turned and made his way back to his companion, the gamine's gaze drifted over to the lady. Even from this distance, she could tell she was a pretty, delicate little thing. Small but supple curves. Perfect, graceful poise. An elegant tumble of golden curls falling from beneath her bonnet …

Eponine suddenly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her lungs.

Ducking his head, the gentleman was once again at her side, smiling and holding up her purse between his fingers. The lady grinned at him, laughter sparkling in her eyes. Her wide, beautiful, bright _blue_ eyes …

In a moment, the patter of the rain was drowned out by the roar of blood in Eponine's ears. _It can't be …_

She did not hear the thundering of hoofbeats against the cobblestones. Not until the horse had charged right to her side and released a high-pitched whinny so deafening that it made her stumble backward with a cry. She threw up her arms and the umbrella went flying out of her hand, crashing down upon the wet pavement beside her. Within seconds the gamine was soaked to the skin as the rain washed over her and drenched her from head to toe.

"Well, well, well …" The rather pudgy policeman sneered down upon her like she was a stray dog who had wandered into his path. He glanced toward the fallen umbrella. "And just who did you steal _that_ from, eh, _Mademoiselle?_"

The gamine swallowed hard. "Ain't stolen, M'sieur. It's mine." She turned from him then, but then she cursed under her breath as two other officers brought their horses about, blocking her escape on both sides.

"Ha!" The policeman dismounted, his boots splashing into the wet cobblestones below as she backed away. He picked the umbrella up, inspecting its shiny mahogany handle. "You really expect me to believe that? This is fine craftsmanship right here. How could a filthy little guttersnipe like you afford something like this, eh?"

The gamine glared at him. "It's a _gift_, M'sieur. A friend gave it to me."

"Ohohoho, a _friend_, eh?" the officer howled. "Some blind, rich bloke you've been screwing, I'll bet."

Eponine clenched her fist and fought down the urge to slam it right in his ugly, leering face.

"Nah, Laroche," said one of the other officers. "I've seen this little rat before. She's a real thief. I'll betcha anything she snatched that umbrella from some poor honest gentleman when he wasn't looking."

"That's what I thought," the first officer huffed, grabbing her roughly by the arm. "Alright then, you little wench. You just come quietly and we won't – _oof!_"

Snarling, the gamine swung her elbow out and smashed it into the officer's gut. He tumbled backwards, releasing her from his grip and she tried to make a run for it by slipping out under the horse. But she didn't get very far before the other officer leaped off of his saddle, tackling her and slamming her down face-first onto the cobblestones. She let out a scream of pain upon impact, and then another as the officer began to beat her mercilessly with his rod.

The poor gamine cried and struggled beneath him, choking on rainwater as she pleaded for him to stop. Still her body shuddered as blow after blow came from above until she could do nothing but press her face into the pooling water below and sob pitifully. Finally the officer brought his rod down upon her back in a brutal, finishing stroke. Then he wrenched her to her feet, pinning both arms behind her.

"That's enough out of you," he hissed into her ear. "It's off to jail with you now, you little hussy."

Swallowing back helpless tears, Eponine lifted her head and tried to make out the distant carriage through the fog. It was as if she was hoping the gentleman or the lady had seen her plight, that someone would help her …

But when her eyes fell upon the street corner, there was no one there at all.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Oy, writing this chapter was harder than I thought. There are a couple of spots I'm still not a hundred percent satisfied with. Hm. In any case, I hope you still enjoy! Of course I couldn't leave ya'll on that cliffhanger for too long, but unfortunately fans of my other fanfics have been hounding me like crazy about updating, so I'm going to have to divert my attention there next. Hopefully that won't keep me away from this story too long though. Please R&R, I love hearing your thoughts!_

_Last revised: 8/10/13_

XXXXXXXXX

"Get in there, wench," the guard growled as he shoved Eponine into her cell. Still bruised and bleeding, she stumbled to the floor with a cry of pain, catching herself on her hands and knees.

However, the gamine still had enough fight in her left to turn and snarl at the uncaring guard as he slammed the door behind her with a loud _clang_.

"Slimy bastard!" she shrieked, flying at the bars and gripping them in her hands. "Let me out of here! I didn't do anything. Hey! Get back here! Coward!"

When she received no response, Eponine slammed her fist against the bars, the sound of which rang through the entire cell block. She stood there for a moment, hand throbbing, chest heaving. Then, with a huff, she slid down to the floor and pulled her knees to chest, letting out a stream of angry curses.

"Hey, pipe down, will ya?"

Her head swung toward the sound. A disheveled young man smirked back at her from the opposite cell, clearly hung over. His eyes were bloodshot, his body slumped against the wall, and the front of his jacket was stained with a mess of alcohol and vomit.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do I know you?"

The man shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me."

She peered at him closer, trying to make out the face hidden behind that dark, shaggy mess of hair. She swore he looked familiar. The style of his jacket suggested he was a student. She thought back to the previous night, reviewing the faces of those bourgeois boys from the Café Musain ...

Her eyes widened, than rolled in annoyance. "Oh. You're that _drunk_."

That drunk – _Grantaire_ – popped his eyes wide in surprise. "Huh. You recognize me?" He squinted at her, and then wrinkled his nose. "I, uh … haven't slept with you before, have I?"

Eponine snorted in disgust. "No, M'sieur."

"Oh. Good," the boy chuckled, relieved. "So, uh … _who_ are you?"

"Eponine. We saw each other at the Café Musain last night, M'sieur."

"Oh!" The drunk's eyes suddenly lit up and he pointed a finger at her. "Right! You're Joly's new girlfriend, right?"

The gamine immediately balked. "I'm not his _girlfriend!_"

"Yeah, sure," the boy chortled shamelessly. "So … how did you wind up in here?"

"You first," she snapped.

"Heh, okay. I got drunk."

Eponine gave him a long look. "They don't put you in jail just for getting drunk, M'sieur."

"Well … okay, maybe I got drunk and started punching a few people, that's all." The boy smirked and shrugged. "Oh well. They said they were only going to keep me for the night, so I should be getting out of here any minute now."

"Hmph. Good for you," Eponine sniffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"Well, how about you? What you in for, mon chérie?"

The gamine bristled at the epithet. "Nothing. I didn't do anything."

"Mm-hm, sure."

"_I didn't_. Those stupid cops thought I stole something I didn't."

"Oh yeah? Oh. Well … that's too bad." He thought for a moment. "Say … you, uh, want me to tell Joly so he can try to bail you out or something?"

_Joly ..._ Eponine couldn't help but smirk as she thought about what that boy would do if he found out she wound up in here. Especially since this was all technically _his_ fault to begin with.

She glanced down at her arms. The flesh was splotched black and purple, bleeding in some place. She was certain that her back, which took the brunt of the beating, looked far worse. It certainly felt that way.

_Joly_ ... if that idiot were to see the sorry state she was in, he'd probably whisk her back to his apartment and rub salves all over her bruises with those gentle, shaking hands of his …

She shivered, clutching her shoulders to still them. Just thinking about such things made her skin prickle.

But strangely enough it also made her feel warm.

She decided not to dwell on that last thought too long.

Eponine glanced back over at the drunk. That might be a smart idea, actually. Joly could easily clear up the whole misunderstanding about the umbrella and those cops would have to let her go. Still, she recoiled at the thought of having someone come to her rescue. Anyone, that is, except ...

Except ...

"Wait."

Her eyes widened, an idea dawning.

"M'sieur!" she called out to the drunk. "You go to the same university as Marius, don't you?"

The boy looked up at her dully. "Marius? Uh, yeah. I do."

"Then ..." With a gasp, she sprung to her feet and grasped the bars. "Then ... could you tell _Marius_ that I am here? Could you tell him to come and get me out of here?"

"Wait, you want me to … _what?_" Grantaire put a hand up, his eyes screwed tight. "Wait, hold on a second, I thought you were _Joly's_ girlfriend …"

"No ..._ listen!_" Eponine rasped, gripping the bars tighter. "I don't need Joly. I need _Marius._ I need you to get him for me. Do you understand? I need _Marius!_"

"But why ..."

"_Just do it!"_

"I, um … okay," Grantaire said, clearly confused. "Quit yelling. I get it. I'll … get Marius, I guess."

_He'll get Marius_ ... _he'll get Marius!_ A half-crazed smile spread across Eponine's face. Wonderful, romantic imaginings flew through her mind, sending a thrill through her veins. Marius bursting into the jail, crying out her name, rushing to her side, sweeping her into his arms ...

"M'sieur …" She leaned in against the bars, her voice low and conspiring as she formulated her plan in her mind. "Be sure to tell him how miserable it is in here. Tell him that it's freezing cold and dark and damp and there are hungry rats crawling all over the floors."

Grantaire's eyes flit about his cell for a moment. "Well … that all sounds pretty accurate, Mademoiselle …"

"But you have to _tell_ him!" she hissed. "You have to tell him so he will come for me!"

"Uh ... alright, alright," Grantaire groaned. At this point, he was only aware of half of what she was saying.

"Oh! And tell Marius that I'm …" She paused then, a devious spark in her eyes. "Tell him that I'm sick. _Deathly_ sick. Tell him that I'm wasting away in here … _dying._"

Grantaire peered at her. "You sure don't look too sick to me …"

"Just say that I am!" Eponine snapped impatiently. "When you see him, say that they dragged me in here coughing and shivering and as pale as death. Tell Marius that I've got a terrible fever and if someone doesn't come to save me soon, I'll surely die. _Got it?_"

"I …" Grantaire rubbed his sleeve over his forehead. "Er … okay. But why do I …"

But his voice cut off as the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoed down from the other end of the corridor. Eponine turned toward the sound, and to her delight three guards arrived at the drunk's cell and began unlocking the door. They guards barked at him loudly, ordering him to stand, but the drunk hardly seemed to hear them at all. It took all three of them to hoist him up off the floor. He just collapsed over their arms, mumbling incoherently as they dragged him out into the corridor.

"Don't forget!" Eponine cried desperately, pressing herself against the bars. "Don't forget me, M'sieur. You get Marius, you hear me? _Get Marius!_"

"Shut up, you!" one of the guards snarled at her, kicking the bars. Leaping back, she cursed at him loudly, but he just spat at her and turned to follow after his comrades as they led the drunk to freedom.

Snickering, the gamine wiped the spit from her cheek and laughed at the guards retreating backs. As if they could scare her. Nothing could scare her anymore. Her hero would be there soon.

_Marius was coming …_

XXXXXXXXX

"Marius, please!" Joly cried struggling to keep up with his friend as they squeezed their way through the student-crowded hallway. "If you'll just let me examine your wound for a few seconds, I can make sure that it's treated properly!"

"It's not a _wound, _Joly, it's a _paper cut_, and it's not even bleeding, for God's sakes!"

"Marius! All it takes is a single scratch for the flesh to be exposed to any number of life-threatening infections. Please!" Lunging forward, Joly grasped at his friend's 'wounded' hand and tried to drag him back towards him. "I'll just rub a little alcohol on it and patch it up. You won't miss the lecture over this, I swear!"

"Oh, alright! Alright!" Marius cried, exasperated. Swinging around, he let his friend lead him over to the wall. Joly grinned at him, humming happily to himself as he dug into his medicine purse for the rubbing alcohol and began to dab.

A minute went by and Marius glanced around impatiently at the thinning traffic of students around them. "Joly, could you hurry it up?"

"Patience, mon ami," his friend said mildly, continuing to rub the alcohol in. "I have to be sure that I've disinfected the entire wound."

"Joly, that cut is not even a centimeter long. I'm sure you disinfected it more than adequately by now."

"Now, now. We have to allow the alcohol to saturate the entire area before I can …"

"Oh, for pity's sake!"

Having reached the end of his patience, Marius yanked his hand free and began to march his way off down the hallway.

"Marius!" Joly squeaked, chasing after him. "Stop! I haven't bandaged your wound for you yet!"

"It doesn't _need_ bandaging! Honestly, Joly, I'm not going to die from this little cut."

"Famous last words, mon ami!" Joly cried, grabbing him by the arm. "Just hold still for just a few seconds …"

"Joly, let go!"

"Not until you let me bandage you!"

"Stop it!"

"No!"

"Marius! Joly!"

The two students immediately froze to attention.

They turned, and sure enough there was Enjolras glaring back at them, his expression as severe and commanding as ever. Behind him, however, a red-faced Bossuet and Jean Prouvaire were covering their mouths in an attempt to muffle their laughter.

"What are you two doing?" Enjolras demanded.

Marius stammered, "Nothing," at the same time that Joly cried, "I'm trying to mend his wound!"

"His wound?" Enjolras' head swung toward the younger student. "Marius, what is he talking about?"

Marius gave him a deadpan look, then lifted up his finger. "_This._"

Enjolras stared at the cut for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes. "Ah."

Joly grabbed the finger. "As I was trying to tell Marius, I just need a moment to make sure that this wound is properly bandaged before he can …"

"Joly, there's no time for that," Enjolras interjected, stepping forward and placing a hand on Marius' shoulder. "Marius, we have get over to Saint Sever as quick as we can. _Now_."

"Saint Sever?" Marius looked confusedly at him. "Enjolras, what are you talking about?"

"Marius …" Enjolras leaned forward. "Marius, I've finally done it. I've gotten us an audience with General Lamarque."

"_What!_" Marius' loud cry drew the stares of several surrounding students. He quickly leaned forward and in a hushed voice continued, "_Lamarque! _Mon Dieu, Enjolras, how did you manage that?"

Enjolras smiled proudly. "It was a pure stroke of luck. But he can only meet with us now, so we have to hurry. Comberferre and Courfeyrac are already on their way there, but you understand the legal side of things better than anyone, Marius. I need you there too."

Marius nodded. "Right." He looked over his friend's shoulder. "Bossuet …"

"Say no more," the smiling student said, holding up a hand. "I'll stay here and cover for you. As usual."

"Merci," Marius replied as the reality finally sunk in and adrenaline took him over in full. _An audience with Lamarque ... _this was just what Les Amis needed!He nodded toward Enjolras. "Alright, let us go." And with that the two men quickly made their way toward the building's exit.

"Wait! Marius!" Joly cried, running after them. "You can't expose an open wound to the elements. It's still raining outside! If that cut gets wet, who knows what infections could … _oof!_"

His words cut off as he slammed right into Marius' frozen back.

"Ow!" Joly grasped his nose, quickly checking for breaks and finding none. He looked up to see what made his friend stop so suddenly.

There, standing in front of the door, was _Grantaire_. Sopping wet and wholly hung-over. "_Bonjour_ …"

The other students just gaped at him, speechless, as he teetered unsteadily and dripped puddles all over the university's pristine floors.

"Grantaire? What …" Enjolras began, and then he just closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. Never mind. I don't want to know."

"Heheheh … I, uh, guess I got drunk again …"

"Mon Dieu, is that _vomit_ on your shirt?" Joly cried, leaping forward. "You're ill! Grantaire, come on, we must go to the infirmary_…_"

"W-w-wait …" Grantaire stumbled backwards and threw a soggy arm over Marius' shoulders. "I, uh … I'm supposed to be tellin' Marius here something first …"

"Me?" Marius said, recoiling at the stench of his friend's alcohol-soaked breath. "W-What is it?"

"I-I'm, uh, supposed to be telling you … be telling you …" Grantaire stopped, his eyes going unfocused. "Uh … what was I supposed to be telling you?"

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Enjolras snapped, grabbing Marius' arm.

"_Wait …_" Grantaire's forehead clenched as he struggled to wrack his brain. "I … I remember now, it … there was this friend of yours … uh … in jail … there's somebody in jail … asking for you …"

"In jail?" Marius frowned at him. "You were in jail?"

"Yeah …" Grantaire nodded stupidly. "And uh … she asked me to get you …"

"_She?_ Grantaire, who …"

"Uh, it was this girl, uh … oooh, what was her name. Uh, it started with an _E_, I think, or was it a _P_, uh … Emeline? No, uh … Paulette? Pauline? Uh …"

"Eponine?"

It was Joly who spoke her name, not Marius.

"Y-yes! Eponine!" Grantaire cried. "That's it!"

"Eponine?" Marius' face visibly paled, though not quite as pale as Joly's. "Wait, did you say … she's in _jail?_"

"Yeah, they, uh … thought she stole something or … something, and uh …" Grantaire grimaced, clearly aggravated by the effort of having to think again. "Oh no, I was supposed to tell you something else, uh … what is it, um, she's … _sick!_ I was supposed to tell you she's sick!"

"_Sick?_" At this, Joly pushed his way in front of his two friends and grabbed Grantaire by the arms. "Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah … _really_ sick. She, uh, got a fever or something …"

"What are her symptoms?" Joly demanded, his eyes filled with panic. "Is there a doctor attending to her? Anyone?"

"Uh … _no_ … her, uh, symptoms were …" He moaned. "I think it was … _coughing_ and … shivering and …"

"Listen," Enjolras suddenly interjected. "This is all very unfortunate, but we've already been delayed long enough. Marius and I have to leave. _Now."_

"W-wait a minute …" Grantaire grabbed Marius by the arm again. "She, uh … she asked for _you_, Marius. She wants you to go and rescue her or something."

Marius looked at him in blank confusion. "_M-me?_ Why me?"

"I dunno, I uh …" Grantaire stopped, his face contorting with nausea. "Oooh, I think I'm going to throw up again … ugh …"

As the poor drunk began to sway, Jean Prouvaire sprang into action and grabbed him by the arm so that he literally collapsed on top of him. "Grantaire, come on," he said, supporting his weight. "We're going to see the doctor now. Okay?"

The half-conscious student just groaned in response and allowed himself to be led off toward the infirmary. Marius stared after them bewilderedly, still trying to absorb these revelations, when Joly's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Well?" Marius turned to see the typically "jolly" student glaring back at him severely. "Are you going to help her or not?"

"I …" His head swung between Joly and Enjolras, his expression torn. "I ..."

"Marius!" Enjolras interjected. "You can go to her _later_. I need you _now!_"

"But she's _sick!_" Joly cried. "There's a girl sick in prison, Enjolras. How can you just ignore that!"

"Fine! Then _you_ go to her," Enjolras snapped impatiently. "_You're_ the medical student."

"She asked for _Marius!_"

"Joly ..."

Both men turned toward the flustered Marius. He blinked up at them, his expression pitiful.

"Joly, can ... can't you go to her for me?"

The medical student nearly choked, not believing what he was hearing. "Marius ..."

"I ..." The younger student stared dejectedly at the floor. "I'm sorry, but ..."

"Marius, come on," Enjolras said impatiently. "We've wasted enough time here. Let's go."

Marius swallowed, closing his eyes, and then allowed himself to be led off toward the door. For a half-second Joly just stared after them, aghast, and then he marched after them, his anger rising.

"So that's it then, Marius?" You're just going to let her waste away in jail?"

Marius glanced back over his shoulder, his face twisted in remorse. "Joly, of course I'm worried about her, but we can't miss this opportunity. If we had Lamarque allied with the revolution, just think about what we could …"

"Oh, I see," Joly scoffed bitterly. "I see. And all that's more important to you than a girl's life, is it? A girl you call your _friend?_"

That last sentence actually made Marius halt for one second, but Enjolras just grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him through the door. The two men ducked their heads as they stepped out into the downpour, with Marius fumbling for his umbrella without breaking his stride.

Once they reached the street, Marius looked back over his shoulder. Joly was standing at the top of the rain-covered steps, glaring down at them in disgust.

"Joly, please!" he cried. "You ... you can help her better than I can, can't you?"

"She asked for _you_, Marius! What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Tell her that I … I …" With a heavy sigh, Marius shook his head. "Tell her I'm sorry."

And with that he and Enjolras rushed away and vanished into the fog.

_Marius … _For a moment Joly just stared after them, unaccustomed rage rushing through him, robbing him of breath. He gritted his teeth, oblivious to the rain pouring over him as he fought to regain his composure.

_Marius, you blind fool!_

"You're going to her, aren't you."

Joly whirled around in surprise. A strangely solemn-looking Bossuet stood in the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring at him intensely.

"I …" Joly turned his face away. _Go to her ..._

_Eponine._

In an instant, Joly's anger at Marius disintegrated, replaced by overwhelming concern for Eponine.

Images of her lying feverish and shaking on a prison cell floor sent a shot of icy dread through his heart. He shut his eyes, willing for the images to go away. To let the imagined sounds of her suffering be drowned out by the cadence of the rain.

_No ... _no, he couldn't just leave her there. He had to go to her. He had to.

"Well …" Joly's eyes reopened as Bossuet's voice reached his ears once more. His friend stared back at him evenly. "I'll see if Jean Prouvaire can cover for you too, then."

Joly blinked up at his friend, confused by the uncharacteristic graveness in his expression. "Bossuet …"

"But before you go ... here." Bossuet reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "I was supposed to give this to you. Keep it in your purse so it doesn't get wet."

Joly frowned as he took the envelope in his hand. "What … who is it from?"

Bossuet's eyes narrowed. "Who do you think?"

He looked down, feeling along the outline of the pages concealed within the paper. And then all at once the realization hit him like a blow to the gut. Even through the dank odor of the surrounding rain, the faintest traces of perfume reached his nostrils. _Cloves. A_nd the scent of something spicier underneath. He would know that scent anywhere. It was one that went to his head on too many nights to count. Her favorite scent.

Well … this must mean she forgives him now.

"You'd better not hurt her."

Joly's eyes instantly shot back to his friend. When Bossuet returned his gaze, his eyes were darker. Accusatory.

"I …" Joly swallowed nervously. "I do not plan to."

He would later realize that in that moment he was not sure who he was speaking of.

"Well … that's good," Bossuet said after a moment. His face softened, his eyes turning strangely sad. He turned his back to Joly, and after a moment, he added, "She always did love you a bit more than me."

Joly could only watch dumbly as his friend stepped back inside and shut the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXX

"Shoo!" Eponine shrieked, kicking at a rat that had come sniffing at her foot and sending it scurrying back to its hole. Closing her eyes, she slumped back against the wall and winced in pain as her bleeding back rubbed against the stone.

_Marius, where are you? _

At least two hours had passed since the drunk had been released. For the first hour, at least, the wait had been easy enough to bear. She simply closed her eyes and pretended that she was not some prisoner in this filthy dungeon, but a princess in an ivory tower waiting for her prince to save her. But as the time passed, the dankness of the air began to sink into her skin, and the stench of the piss and sewage began to smother her lungs, and the open wounds along her back began to sting and throb.

And now her patience was quickly thinning, burning into outright anger at every passing second that she remained stuck in this rat hole.

She was so lost in her musings that she did not even hear the guard approach. Not until he kicked at the bars with his heavy boot, making her jump in surprise.

"Get up," he barked.

Eponine blinked up at him. "What for?"

"Your boyfriend just showed up and cleared you. On your feet, you little wench."

Heart pounding, chest heaving, Eponine leapt to her feet. She could scarcely breathe. _He's here ... Marius is here! He came for me! For me!_

She didn't even bother to stifle her giggle as the guard unlocked the door for her and yanked her out into the corridor. Though her sore arm screamed in pain at his grip, she felt as if she was floating on air.

_He's here ..._ The heat of anticipation flooded her breast with such intensity she wanted to cry. She could already feel Marius' arms about her, sheltering her and comforting her, his lips against her hair, his soothing whispers against her ear …

Somewhere along the way, she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be deathly sick. Hunching over, she wrapped her free arm about herself and began to shiver and cough, even tousling her hair and brushing it over her face for additional effect. Her bogus hacking echoed through the long corridor until, suddenly, a man's voice called out to her from the end.

"Eponine!"

_Marius! _Unable to contain herself any longer, Eponine yanked herself out of the guard's grasp and raced ahead. _Marius … Marius … Marius! _

She came around the corner ... and froze. Her feet stopped so suddenly she nearly fell over them. Expression-wise, the face that met her eyes was the very picture she'd expected to see. Eyes wide and anxious. Cheeks flushed. Fretfulness giving way to relief the moment his eyes met hers.

But the eyes … the mouth … the hair … the _face._

It was wrong. All wrong.

"J-Joly?"

"Eponine!" In three steps, the boy crossed the room and pulled the shaken gamine into his arms. "Eponine, are you alright?"

Her whole body stiffened, half from the pain and half from shock. She shifted in his embrace, shrinking inwardly.

_No … these arms are wrong. They are all wrong!_

Joly felt her cringe and released her slowly, his eyes searching her face for the cause of her distress. And then his gaze fell upon her bruised and battered arms and his breath caught. "Mon Dieu! Eponine, what happened to you?" He looked up at the guards. "What have you _done _to her!"

"She resisted arrest," one of the guards sniffed indifferently. "Attacked an officer and tried to get away, the little slut."

Anger flashed briefly through Joly's eyes, but he turned his attention away from the guard and back to Eponine. He carefully smoothed her damp hair away from her face and placed a hand against her forehead, checking for fever.

"Grantaire said you were sick," he whispered worriedly. "How are you feeling?" A beat. "Eponine, can you hear me?"

"Where is Marius?"

A cold pit of dread settled into Joly's stomach at the hollowness in her voice.

The gamine was not even looking at him. Her eyes were unfocused, flitting this way and that, the blood draining from her face as she failed to find what she was seeking.

"Eponine …"

"Where is he?" she whispered again, her breathing becoming faster. Shallower. "He's here, isn't he? He has to be here." She stared up at him, her pupils wide. Desperate. "Joly, where is he? Where's …" Her voice died off, leaving behind only a breathy shudder.

Joly quickly wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Eponine, come on. I'm getting you out of here." He nodded at the guards, who were staring at them bemusedly, and led her towards the exit.

For a moment the gamine remained silent and despondent beneath his arm, her eyes still shifting this way and that in utter confusion. But when Joly brought her out the door, they were hit by a fierce blast of rain and wind that instantly, violently, snapped her out of her trance.

"_Marius!" _With a loud cry, she wrenched herself out of Joly's grasp and ran out into the streets.

Her bare feet splashed into the mud, the rain poured over her, drenching her to the bone, but she hardly acknowledged it as her head swung this way and that, searching, _searching_ …

"Eponine!" Joly ran after her, stopping just a few steps behind her. She did not seem to hear him. "Eponine?"

_Marius ... where are you? Marius ... Marius .._

Joly reached for her arm. "Eponine, he isn't …"

"_Don't touch me!_" she screamed, whirling around. She glared at him furiously, her eyes stinging with angry tears. "Why are you here? Where is _Marius?_"

"Eponine, he … he isn't here."

The words seemed to hang between the space between them, swallowed up by the unending noise of the rain.

_No_ ...

Eponine shook her head, smiling in denial, refusing to believe it. Her eyes continued to roam. _He's here. He has to be. Marius wouldn't just leave me here. He wouldn't. He ... he wouldn't ..._

But as the rain continued to pour into the silence and Marius did not appear, the smile faded from her face.

"He …"

Slowly, agonizingly,the reality began to sink in.

"He ... isn't here?"

Joly closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "No, Eponine."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. When she finally looked up at him, her expression was that of a lost child. "W-why?"

"He …" Joly paused, not knowing quite how to say it. "I …"

"It was that _drunk_, wasn't it!" she cried, suddenly furious. "He screwed it up! He didn't tell him that I was here, did he?"

Joly shook his head at her helplessly. "No, Eponine. He did."

In her eyes, he could see the realization hit her like a slap in the face.

"He … he did?" she squeaked out, beginning to tremble.

"Yes."

"Then why …" Eponine shook her head and turned her face away. Her voice sounded so small. "Why didn't he come?"

"He … he would have come, Eponine, but … he was needed. It … there was something important he had to … to …"

His voice trailed off as he realized how stupid and pitiful those excuses sounded.

"Something … important," Eponine repeated hollowly.

Her hands slowly reached up, clutching at her temples as if these revelations were too much for her mind to take. Her shoulders began to shake, hunching together. Her breaths turned shallow, her face turned gray.

"Eponine …" Joly stepped forward, despair seizing him as he saw the first tears begin to drip from her eyes. "Eponine, he would have come. He would have. But this … it was …"

"More important than_ me_." She shook her head, and then all at once, her face crumpled and she began to sob. "Mon Dieu!" she choked out brokenly. "He doesn't care for me at all, does he!"

"Eponine!" Without thinking, Joly threw his arms around her shaking form. "Eponine, calm down ..."

"No," she moaned, twisting violently in his embrace. And then she was screaming. "No, no, no, _no!_"

"Eponine!"

Before Joly could stop her, the weeping gamine ripped herself out of his arms and ran out into the street. He called after her, but the roar of the rain and the sounds of her own cries drowned out his voice as she raced on through the storm.

She ran on and on as the the rain swept over her, drowning her and consuming her. She sobbed with every breath, choking on tears and rainwater. With each step, her heart splintered a little more until it finally crumbled into nothing.

By the time Eponine reached the river all that was left was a gaping cavity where her heart used to be. At last her knees gave out and she fell to the earth, wailing brokenly as she buried her face into the mud.

Her sobs wrenched themselves from her throat, over and over, and her fingers clawed at the slimy mire as if seeking to dig her own grave. In her anguish, she desperately she tried to dream up Marius again. To feel his arms around her as always. To hear his voice whisper to her within her mind …

But there was nothing. Nothing but the cold and empty scream of silence. Because no powers of her imaginings could save her from the truth anymore.

_Marius didn't come. He didn't love her. He didn't care ..._

She let out a ragged cry as these realizations ripped through her once again.

She slammed her fist into the mud, the clawing agony of grief giving way to the bitter burn of loathing. She cursed him. She cursed Marius and his beautiful face. She cursed him. She cursed Joly. She cursed the guards, the rain, the river, her parents God…

And most of all she cursed herself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid fool! _Of course he didn't love her. Why should he love her? She was worthless. Trash. The scum of the street. Did she honestly think she could ever mean anything to him? Did she honestly think he could ever find anything in her to love?

She was no one. Nothing. Nobody.

She buried her face into her mud-covered arms as her sobs continued anew.

After several agonizing moments, she glanced up once at the river. For once she could not see the misty lights of her imagined Heaven. Only blackness. Endless, inviting blackness. Calling to her, beckoning her to let it swallow her whole.

And why not crawl over to the edge and end it all now? She was already drowning anyway.

With a shudder, the gamine simply sank into the mud, too tired to move. Too tired to think. Too tired to die. Then she he froze as her fingers brushed against something soft. Something delicate, fragile, like a butterfly's wing. Lifting her head ever so slightly, the gamine blinked her eyes open. There, creeping up from the earth between her fingers and lifting its head ever so slowly toward the rain … was a flower bud. A streak of lavender purple sticking out of the mud like a splash of watercolor.

For a moment she just stared at it, as if scarcely believing it was there. Then, ever so carefully, she reached over and stroked the bud with her fingertips. She knew what this was. Flowers like this used to grow around the inn. Sometimes she'd pluck them and press them between the pages of one of her father's money books so that she could preserve them, hoping they would last forever. She couldn't help but smile bitterly at the memory. Of course, those flowers – and every other pretty thing that once belonged to her – were long gone by now. Oddly enough, she was grateful to be given this one bit of comfort and beauty in her grief.

As her fingers continued to reverently caress the tightly-wound petals, the purple began to melt into a blur within the watery pools of her vision. Her eyelids fluttered closed, too exhausted to remain open. With a heavy sigh, she laid her cheek against the earth and allowed herself to drift off into the blessed darkness.

XXXXXXXXX

When he found her lying face down in the mud by the river, Joly immediately feared the worst. He rushed to her side, crying out her name. "Eponine! _Eponine!_"

Panic exploded through him when she did not respond.

Hands shaking, he lifted her fragile body into his arms. It was not until he felt her pulse throbbing weakly beneath his fingertips that he even dared to breathe again. But staring down upon her pale and mud-streaked face, he felt his heart twist painfully deep within him.

_Oh Eponine …_

He hoisted her up, cradling her gently against his chest. With a soft moan, the gamine began to squirm.

"Marius …?"

His breath caught ... then released itself in a shudder. "No, Eponine," he said.

The gamine's eyebrows knit together in confusion. But after a moment her expression smoothed over with a sigh, and she turned and pressed her nose into his chest. Joly swallowed, a palpable warmth spreading through his body at her touch. Tightening his grip, carefully and protectively, he turned to make his way off the riverbanks and carry her to shelter.

He did not see that behind him, upon the earth were he once stood, a single bud had ever so slowly begun to unfurl its petals beneath the rain.


	7. Chapter 7

_Last Revised: 8/26/13_

Joly could not help but marvel at how heavy Eponine felt in his arms.

It really made no sense, considering how fragile she was. With her body pressed so closed to his, he could clearly see the sharp lines and angles of bone protruding beneath her pale skin. He could also feel every single one of her ribs, and her limbs were so frail he feared he would break her if he squeezed too hard. Logically, she should weigh nothing at all.

And yet … something was weighing her down.

When he finally made it into his apartment, Joly wasted no time in carrying her into his room and gently laying her down onto the bed. Her body slumped lifelessly against the mattress, her head lolling to the side, but the soft moan that escaped her lips quelled his fears. Smiling in relief, Joly stroked a hand along her cheek, brushing back a few strands of her mud-slicked hair. But then his gaze traveled down to the dark, angry bruises along her arms and the sight of them turned his stomach.

_Those animals … how could they treat a young woman like this?_ If her arms looked this bad, he could only imagine what her back looked like. Insentiently, his hand reached for the collar of her wet chemise, slipping it off of her shoulder …

And then he froze, all the blood rushing out of his face.

His hand – which was still gripping the drenched fabric – began to shake violently as he realized what he was about to do. What he _had _to do. Heat crept up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. It … it was standard procedure! Eponine could not stay in these wet clothes. Besides, he needed access to her injuries he was going to get them cleaned and treated.

But just gazing upon Eponine's unconscious face made him burn with shame. He would bet anything in the world that she wasn't wearing anything underneath this chemise. Quite honestly, the proof was right there before his eyes. The rain-soaked fabric clung tightly to her body, leaving very little to the imagination.

With a gulp, he respectfully brought his gaze back up to her face.

_Mon Dieu …_ why was he so nervous? This wouldn't be the first time he undressed a patient and God knows it wouldn't be the first time he undressed a w_oman_, patient or otherwise. But this … this was _Eponine!_ The thought of yanking her clothes off while she was unconscious made him feel sick.

With a groan, he covered his face with one hand. _Pull yourself together, Joly. You're a doctor, for God's sake!_

He swallowed hard. "Forgive me, Eponine," he murmured. Ever so slowly, he pulled the chemise down, exposing pale shoulders, the beginnings of the swell of her breasts …

Eponine's eyes shot open.

Joly froze. Eponine remained frozen. They stayed that way for several long, agonizing seconds. Joly staring down at her aghast, gripping her wet clothes where he had pulled them down halfway to her elbows, and Eponine staring blankly up at him, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Um …" Joly chuckled awkwardly. "Hey, Eponine. I, uh … see you're awake now."

Eponine blinked at him once. Joly lifted his hands away.

"Um … Eponine, this isn't what it …"

Her fist came flying, smashing into his jaw.

"Ow!" Joly cried as he tumbled down the floor while Eponine scrambled to the back end of the bed, frantically yanking her clothes up.

"_You lech!_" she shrieked. "You sick, perverted lech! _What do you think you're doing?"_

"Nothing … _nothing!_" Joly cried, staggering to his feet. "Eponine, calm down. I wasn't …"

"_Stay back! _Don't you dare come near me!"

On the bed, Eponine was shaking violently. Her back was pressed against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest and clutching her shoulders. If looks could kill, Joly knew he would now be skewered to the wall.

"Eponine, it's okay!" he insisted, reaching out a hand. "I wasn't trying to …"

"You were trying to take my _clothes_ off!"

"Yes! I mean … _yes_, but not to … to …" Joly gulped, heat exploding through his face. "I was just trying to treat your injuries. That's all!"

For a moment, Eponine glared at him accusatorily, still curled into her protective ball. "You …" Slowly her expression softened, uncertain. "You weren't trying to …"

Joly flinched. "No, Eponine. I … I would never do that."

She gauged his words for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Oh!" With a gasp, her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh Joly, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's alright!" he laughed, cradling his swelling chin with one hand. "I-It's understandable that you would think that … well … um …" He cleared his throat. "It's my fault. All my fault. I should've known better."

"Oh no." Eponine leapt off the bed and rushed over to him. She reached up to touch his chin gently, her expression one of pure remorse. "Really M'sieur, why are you always doing things that make me want to take a swing at you?"

Joly chuckled. "Just me being an idiot as always, I guess."

Eponine stared at him incredulously. But then she snorted, cracking a smile. Joly grinned at her, but when glanced down at her bruised arms, his expression sobered. "It seems you're in worse shape than I am, Eponine."

The gamine followed his gaze. "Oh." She shrugged. "Don't worry about me, M'sieur Joly. I've had much worse than this before."

Joly cringed at her resigned tone. The thought that she was accustomed to being treated so roughly filled him with dismay.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

"Um … just a little sore, I guess. Nothing I can't handle. I can still walk fine."

"Well …" Joly reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Would you mind if I still take a look? I could put some salve on your bruises to make them heal faster."

She blinked up at him. "Sure, that ... that'd be okay."

Joly swallowed uncomfortably. "And … you're still going to need to get out of those wet clothes, Eponine."

Her eyes shot wide. She stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as if shielding her body from his view.

"Eponine …" Joly took a step forward, but she backed away. "Look at you, you're shaking with cold. You'll get sick if you stay like that."

The gamine's eyes flit about uncomfortably. "I-I've got nothing to change into, M'sieur."

"Here. I've got a spare patient's robe you can borrow," he said, striding past her toward his closet and pulling out a long, white garment. He smiled. "And I can draw you a bath while you get changed."

Eponine's jaw dropped. "A _bath?"_

"Yes, a nice hot soak will do you plenty of good." He winked. "And no offense, Eponine, but you're pretty filthy."

_A bath!_ Eponine lifted a hand to her mouth. _Mon Dieu, how long has it been since I've had a real bath? _Memories of warm, bubbling water and sweet-smelling soap filled her mind. Sure, she had a taste of it about a week ago when Joly washed her hair for her, but a full bath? Head to toe? It was something she could only dream about!

Joly quirked an eyebrow at her. "You do know how to bathe yourself, don't you?"

Eponine's eyes flashed with indignation. "Of course, I do!"

"Good! I'll get it ready for you, then," he said, laying the robe on top of the bed.

"You … you're serious?" Eponine breathed, still disbelieving. "Y-you're really going to let me take a bath in that fancy tub of yours?"

Joly laughed. "Of course, Eponine."

"I …" The gamine's face flushed. Her eyes were almost gleaming with tears. "I don't know what to say."

Joly stared at her face in wonder. He never thought something as simple as a warm bath could inspire such an emotional reaction from her. With a tender smile, he stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder ever so gently.

"It's no problem at all, my dear Eponine. Just wait here and get into that dry robe for me, alright? I won't take long."

She blinked up at him for a moment, still speechless. And then her eyes turned warm with gratitude, the smile breaking across her face like the first rose hues of dawn. "M-merci beaucoup, Joly."

Joly couldn't speak. He was breathless as he squeezed her shoulder one last time and made his way out the door. As he walked slowly toward the bathroom, he felt like he would gladly move a mountain if it would bring such a smile to her face again.

As soon as he was gone, Eponine fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, dizzy with excitement. _A real bath._ It felt like she was dreaming. Here she was lying on a warm mattress that was actually soft and getting ready for her first real bath in nearly ten years. Never mind that she was soaked to the skin and muddy and covered in bruises all along her back and arms. For the first time in so long she almost felt like a proper mademoiselle again. It almost made her forget about that lingering ache in her chest, the remnants of a heart that had been broken so thoroughly.

She let out a hiss, shutting her eyes. Almost, but not quite.

Steering her mind toward other things, Eponine savored the feel of the warm, fluffy bed beneath her for a few more minutes. Then as she pulled herself up onto her feet, she turned around, looked down at the bed and gasped in horror.

_Oh no. _The once pristine sheets were soaked through with rainwater, and the imprint of her body left streaks with mud all over the fabric. She clapped a hand over her mouth, thoroughly embarrassed. And then her eyes roamed up toward where the white robe still lay draped over the edge, clean and spotless.

No … oh no, she couldn't soil anymore of M'sieur Joly's fine things with her filth.

Thinking quickly, she wriggled herself out of her wet chemise and skirt, which fell to the floor with a loud _splat._ Then she yanked the stained sheets off of the bed and wrapped them about her naked form, leaving the robe untouched where it lay.

Several minutes later there was a knock at the door. "Eponine? Are you ready in there?"

The gamine looked up. "Um … oui, M'sieur Joly. Come on in."

Joly opened the door slowly, humming under his breath, but when he stepped into the room he nearly staggered backward in shock.

There stood Eponine … wearing a _bed sheet!_ _His _bed sheet! Or … _drowning_ in his bed sheet seemed more like it. Her body was so tiny and emaciated that it was swallowed up by the yards of fabric, which she seemed to have wrapped around herself at least six times.

"Um, Eponine?" He gulped. "Why are you …"

"I didn't want to get the robe dirty!" she exclaimed, teetering unsteadily. The ends of the sheet bunched around her feet and it was a struggle not to trip over them. "I already got enough mud on this and … I figured it'd make more sense to just wear it for now and put the clean robe on after the bath."

"Oh, okay, that … that does make sense," Joly stammered. "Do you, um, need me to help you walk?"

"No, no," Eponine replied, shaking her head. "I can do it. Just lead the way."

"Well … alright then. I'll just grab the robe for you." Keeping his eyes toward the ground, Joly made his way past Eponine and retrieved the robe from the bed. Then he walked back out the door with a wink. "Follow me, mon cherie."

He heard Eponine grumble something behind him at the epithet and then take a hop forward. Glancing behind him, he saw her shuffling clumsily, her hands grabbing at the yards of fabric and yanking them up in a bid to make room for her feet. He held back a snort of laughter at the comical scene. Quite honestly, she looked utterly adorable. And there was really nothing indecent about her appearance. She did a fine job of wrapping herself up, hiding her modesty completely.

Still … that did not change the fact that she happened to be wearing his _bed sheet._

When they finally made it to the bathroom, a delicious waft of steam washed over the both of them, rising up from the sparkling water that filled the tub nearly up to the brim. Behind him, Joly heard Eponine make a gasp of delight. He turned to look at her. From the ecstatic way she was staring at the tub, one would think she had stumbled upon a treasure chest full of jewels.

"There's _soap!"_ she exclaimed, hopping forward until she reached the edge of the tub. She grabbed the small yellow cake in her hand and waved her prize about in her hand like a child who'd just opened a present at Christmas.

Joly guffawed at the sight. "Of course there's _soap_, silly mademoiselle. You think I would let you take a bath without soap?"

"Oh, you just don't understand, M'sieur," Eponine mumbled, cradling the soap in her hand like a baby. Joly was awestruck. In the short number of weeks he had known Eponine, he had never seen her with such an unabashed look of joy on her face.

"Well …" With a smile, he hung the white robe onto the hook by the door. "I'll just leave this for you here then. And there's a towel on the rack there. I'll be right outside if you need anything, so just holler for me, okay?"

"Oui, Joly. Merci," she said, still looking down and rubbing her fingers all along the slick surface of the soap cake. _Mon Dieu … _she could already imagine the luxurious lather bubbling across her skin and the thought sent a shiver of pleasure through her veins. Giggling, she set the bar back onto the ledge, grabbed at the sheet and started pulling it down …

But then she froze when out of the corner of her eye she saw that Joly was still there in the bathroom with her.

She turned around slowly. Yes, there he was. Pressed up against the mirror and frantically checking his tongue over just like he did before.

"Joly!"

He jumped, spun around. "Wha ... huh?"

"_Get out!_"

"Oh! Right! Sorry!" With a laugh, the boy scurried out the door and shut it behind him.

Eponine stared at the closed door for a few seconds just to be sure he was gone. Then, with a squeal, she shimmied out of the sheet and kicked the massive pile of fabric across the floor. She scampered over to the end of the tub, gripping both sides in her hands. "Wheeee!" She vaulted over and splashed down, submerging herself completely.

For a couple of seconds she held her breath and stayed down there, letting the glorious warm water soak into every pore of her body. And then with a gasp she broke the surface, throwing her head back and laughing with blissful abandon. Oh, this water was _Heaven!_ Pure Heaven! She splashed about like a dolphin at play, diving in and splashing back up and waving her arms about like wings. Then, after laughing at her own silliness, she grabbed for the cake of soap and began working up a frothy lather.

Eponine hummed in pure delight as she rubbed the soap all along her skin, relishing the clean scent that filled her nostrils. Sure the soap stung in some places where she rubbed it over the bruises, but she didn't mind. And she couldn't stop herself from giggling triumphantly as the years' worth of grime disintegrated beneath the bubbles.

With every scrub she felt like she was scouring away at every filthy thing that ever left its stain on her in her whole miserable life. Every night spent lying on a filthy, flea-covered blanket. Every sweaty pair of hands that molested her in the dark. Every drunken fist that pounded into her face and stomach when she botched a job or came back empty-handed. The thought of her cleansing herself from all those memories almost made her want to cry out of sheer bliss, but she just ducked her head down under the water and let the warmth wash away the beginnings of her tears. She'd feel foolish breaking down crying in this tub, especially when she was feeling so clean and wonderful.

Once all the dirt had been scrubbed away, Eponine lay back against the tub with a contented sigh. This was paradise. She could stay here forever. She could die happy, right here in this tub.

A knock at the door. "Eponine? Everything alright in there?"

With a start, the gamine wrapped her arms around herself and drew her knees up to her chest. Even though she knew the boy couldn't see her, it was still rather awkward having him talk to her while she was naked.

"Oui, M'sieur Joly," she said after a moment. "Everything is _perfect_."

"Oh, that's good. I just wanted to be sure you didn't fall asleep in the tub or anything. You could drown that way, you know."

Eponine let out a laugh. "Don't worry about me, Joly. I'm fine."

"Alright," he said, and she could hear the amused smile in his voice. "Well, take as much time as you need in there, Eponine."

As she listened to his footsteps disappear, Eponine stared up at the ceiling and mused quietly on that stupid bourgeois boy.

Here he was again, doing something so nice for her, acting so unbelievably attentive to her needs. Her relationship with him had changed so dramatically over the past few days, growing into an odd and unexpected sort of friendship. She pondered that ridiculous smile of his, that incessant humming, that boisterous laugh, those mischievous winks – all those quirks she had found unbearably annoying at the outset and were now starting to grow on her.

Oh, dash it all. Eponine knew she liked him. Really, at this point it would be impossible not to like him. For whatever strange reason, she knew he genuinely cared about her, and it really was nice to have a true friend in this world.

Sure, the bourgeois boy could still be an idiot at times. But he was also sweet and gentlemanlike and considerate and … okay, she could admit it. He was rather funny as well. And he simply astounded her. She had never met anyone quite like him. A person who was just bursting at the seams with unbridled happiness. It made her want to sit next to him and bask in some of that sparkling cheerfulness of his and just forget about the cold darkness of her world for a moment.

As the minutes passed and her mind drifted toward other things, the once steaming hot water began to turn cold. Reluctantly, Eponine lifted up her fingers. Sure enough, they were wrinkled and pruning. With a heavy sigh, she decided it was time to get out of the bath.

She gripped the edges of the tub tightly as she lifted herself out, careful not to slip on the puddles she had made on the tiles below. As soon as she had both feet on the floor, she lifted her head …

And froze when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes widened in shock. She had never seen herself fully naked before. And mon Dieu, she looked absolutely _hideous_. Her body was sunken into itself, little more than a skeleton. Her waist and stomach were completely concave, and she had hardly any womanly curves to speak of. And while the filth and grime had been washed away, her tanned skin was still splotched with ugly bruises across her arms and shoulders.

Swallowing back a sob of grief, she turned her face away and reached for the towel, wrapping herself up again. She couldn't stand the sight of herself. It was just too repulsive.

Once she was thoroughly dried, Eponine stumbled toward the door, pointedly avoiding having to look in the mirror's direction. As grabbed the robe off of its hook and slipped it oton herself, she was pleasantly surprised by how comfortably it fit her. Once she was decent enough, she reached forward to open the door but was stopped by voices on the other side.

"Awwww ... Is somebody's little tummy giving him twouble?"

She frowned. _What in the world?_

"Well let's take a little lookie in there, okay little man? Say ahhhhhhh … can you say ahhhhhh?"

_What the ...? _Unable to resist any longer, Eponine pushed open the door and peeked out into the foyer. The first thing she noticed was Joly seated in his chair and bouncing what looked like a five-month-old baby on his lap. He was trying to shine a light into the baby's mouth and was making rather ridiculous faces at the child in the process. There was also a thin brunette woman that Eponine had never seen before seated on the couch across from Joly, watching him closely.

Sensing her presence, Joly turned toward the bathroom door. His eyes brightened at the sight of her. "Oh hey, Eponine!"

The gamine swallowed, embarrassed. "Pardon. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, no! Please come join us," Joly said, gesturing toward the woman on the couch. "This here is my friend Nanette. And _this_ little monkey," he added, bouncing the baby and making him giggle. "Is her son Emile. Say _bonjour_, Emile! Can you say _bonjour?_"

Eponine snickered as Joly lifted up the baby's little hand and waved it in her direction. "Bon après-midi, little M'sieur," she said to the boy. Then to Nanette, "And to you as well, Madame."

The woman returned her smile. "Merci, Mademoiselle."

"Little Emile here has been feeling sick these past couple of days," Joly explained. "So Nanette just dropped by to see if I could give him a little check-up."

"Oh?" Eponine took a seat next to Nanette on the couch and glanced worriedly at the baby. "It's nothing serious, is it?"

"Oh no! Nothing serious at all. There's no fever and as far as I can tell his throat isn't infected." He turned to Nanette. "It's probably just a little cold. All he needs is a little tonic and he'll be right as rain."

The woman let out a huge breath of relief. "Oh, thank God."

"Indeed," Joly replied, handing the squirming child back to his mother. He turned to Eponine. "Say, are you hungry, Eponine?"

"Um …" She smiled uneasily. The truth was she hadn't had a single bite to eat all day. "A little bit."

"Good! I was also going to get us some bread and cheese to share." He turned and sent a playful but pointed look at the other woman. "That includes you too, Nanette."

The woman smiled knowingly and Joly made his way to the kitchen, leaving Eponine to study Nanette a bit more closely. She was a rather young woman, and pretty as well. But it was more than obvious she was of the lower class. Tufts of chestnut hair peeked out from beneath the kerchief she'd wrapped her hair in and she wore a dirty apron over her dress. As for the baby, he was completely naked, but there was a rag laid across Nanette's lap that she must use to wrap him in.

"So," Nanette said, breaking the silence. She gave the gamine a curious look. "Are you M'sieur Joly's new girlfriend, then?"

Eponine flinched, flushing red. "N-no! Joly and I are just friends."

"Oh." Disappointment crossed the woman's face. "He's still with that Musichetta girl, then?"

"I … believe so," Eponine replied, wringing her hands awkwardly. "I don't really know."

"Well, that's a pity." Seeing Eponine's astonished look, she added, "Oh, she's a nice enough girl, I guess. She's just too flighty for him. A good gentleman type like him needs somebody more stable, if you ask me. But I guess it's none of my business anyway."

Eponine offered no reply. But then little Emile let out a whine, his face scrunching up as he kicked his legs around displeasure.

"What's wrong with him?" Eponine said, leaning forward in concern.

"Oh, he gets stomachaches, the poor dear," Nanette replied, laying her son against her shoulder and patting his back. "M'sieur Joly says it's normal in babies, but they've been bothering him so much as of late."

Eponine stretched out her hands. "May I?"

Nanette nodded, relinquishing her son to Eponine's arms. Cooing softly, the gamine laid the baby across her lap and tickled his tummy with one finger. Then, starting at the base of his ribcage, she started massaging his tummy in small, gentle circles.

"Oh!" Nanette gasped, leaning forward to watch. The baby gurgled happily as the gamine continued her ministrations. "He seems to like that. Where ever did you learn that?"

Eponine smiled. "I've got four younger brothers and sisters. Two of them are always getting sick. I had to learn a couple things since I was always the one taking care of them."

"Well, well, well!" Joly exclaimed, waltzing into the room with a tray of bread and cheese. He watched Eponine's hands with surprised admiration. "It looks like someone knows a thing or two about abdominal massages. You never cease to astound me, Eponine."

The gamine blushed at the compliment.

"Now, shall we dig in?" Joly said, laying the tray on the coffee table. He shook a playful finger at Nanette. "And don't even think about being shy, Nanette."

The woman chuckled good-naturedly. "Whatever you say, M'sieur Joly."

Eponine, for her part, was not shy about helping herself to the bread. After quickly handing the baby off to his mother, she reached over and grabbed the largest slice for herself. Her mouth watered like crazy as she sank her teeth into the rich brown dough, and she couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure that rose up from the back of her throat.

Her eyes flew open when she heard Nanette tittering across from her, and out the corner of her eye he saw Joly also covering his mouth, his eyes crinkling in laughter at her antics.

Eponine swallowed quickly, her cheeks flaming. "Pardon."

Nanette waved good-naturedly. "Please, girl. Hunger makes you do crazy things. I certainly know that better than anyone."

With a wink, Joly handed Eponine a slice of cheese. "And feel free to help yourself to some of this as well."

The gamine smiled sheepishly, taking the cheese. "Merci, M'sieur Joly."

"So, M'sieur," Nanette said, reaching for the bread with arm and cradling her baby with the other. "Any word on them finding a cure for cholera anytime soon?"

Joly shook his head regretfully. "No, not that I've heard."

Nanette sighed woefully. "A neighbor of mine just lost a cousin to that wretched disease. I'm always so worried about Emile catching it. It seems like I'm hearing about someone else dropping dead from cholera every day. Do you think the rumors are true, M'sieur? About the government poisoning the wells?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Don't you, now?" Nanette raised her eyebrows. "I thought you revolutionary types were all over these government conspiracies."

"My dear Nanette, I know full well how this government deliberately oppresses the poor. But I have no real reason to think they're responsible for the cholera outbreak. Until I do, I won't accuse them of any such thing."

Nanette shrugged her shoulders. "Fair enough, I guess. As for me, I wouldn't put it past good old King Louis-Phillipe in the slightest."

Joly smirked at her. "The revolution could surely benefit from having spirited women like you within our ranks."

"Please, M'sieur. I'm not going to be risking my life or limbs out on some barricade. Not when I have _this _little one to worry about." Placing a kiss on her baby's head, Nanette shoved a few pieces of bread into her apron pocket and rose to her feet. "Now I'm afraid I must be leaving you. I promised Madame Batiste I would do the laundry for her for a few extra sous, so I'd best be on my way."

Joly nodded, standing up to help her. He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket. "Here's the tonic, Nanette. Just one spoonful a day, alright? Don't overdo it."

"Merci, M'sieur," Nanette said, tucking the bottle into her apron. Then, after a moment she pulled out a coin and held it before Joly's startled eyes.

"Nanette …"

"I know it isn't nearly enough for your trouble, M'sieur Joly. But I needs give you something. I'd feel like a cheat taking this medicine from you for free."

"Nanette," Joly chided softly. He closed her fingers around the coins, turned her fist over and kissed the top of her hand. "I told you before. I neither want nor need any payment from you." He smiled at the baby and blew into his face, making him squeal. "All I want is to see this little monkey nursed back to good health," he said.

Nanette shook her head at him. "You really are a strange man, M'sieur Joly."

The boy laughed at that. "So I've been told, Nanette." He turned and winked at Eponine, who rolled her eyes in response. Nanette's eyes flit between the two of them, a curious smile spreading across her face.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Eponine," Nanette said after a moment.

The gamine smiled. "Same to you, Nanette."

Wrapping a gentlemanlike arm about hers, Joly led the woman to the door. After he pushed it open for her, Nanette took just one step into the hallway before twisting around and leaning in close so that only Joly could hear her.

"She seems like a nice girl," she whispered. "I think it'd be a good thing if you decided to see her more often."

Joly flushed. "P-pardon?"

"Oh, don't be so obtuse!" Nanette giggled. "I can tell you like her a lot. Sure, she's no classic beauty, but she's definitely got a sharp brain. That is certainly more than I can say for … oh!" She clamped her lips together with a smirk. "Oh dear, I'm afraid I spoke too much."

Joly chuckled uncomfortably. "Oh my dear Nanette. Your imagination does run away with you sometimes."

Nanette shook her head at him. "She cares for you, M'sieur. She may not even realize it herself, but I can see it in her eyes. I know it's not my business, but … I think the two of you would make a mighty fine match." She leaned over and tickled her baby. "Don't you agree, Emile?"

The baby gurgled and clapped. Nanette looked up and gave Joly a wink before making her way off down the hallway.

"Think about it, M'sieur," she called over her shoulder. "I'd hate to see you let such a fine girl slip through your fingers."

XXXXXXXXX

_AN: Originally, I didn't plan to cut it off there, but the next part's kinda long so I thought it'd make more sense to leave it here for now. Don't worry! I'll be working on the next chapter straight away, and there will be plenty of Joly/Eponine goodness. ;)_

_Thanks again for your patience in waiting for this chapter! In my absence, I went back and revised a lot of Chapter 6. Most of it was just stylistic things – I was having a really bad writing day when I first wrote it, but I was so anxious about getting it published that I didn't really take the time to polish it up, so I took care of that and made it a whole lot better-written than it was better (I hope). However, the scene with Marius at the university underwent a serious revamp. Quite a few reviewers wanted to punch/strangle/castrate Marius after reading it, which is quite understandable, haha! But after reading it over, I decided my characterization may have been a bit too harsh. Marius may be a blind fool, but he isn't a bad person, and he does genuinely care for Eponine as a friend. So I went back and revised that scene to show him being more torn up about his decision of whether to go to Eponine or go with Enjolras. The outcome is still the same –he still doesn't prioritize Eponine over the higher call of the revolution. There is only one lady in the world who will make him reassess his priorities, *cough, cough.* I think the downside to the changes is that I made Enjolras much meaner in my revision, haha. Like I said before, I LOVE Enjonine fics, but in my opinion the non-Enjonine Enjolras would always choose the revolution over some random girl. (STILL LOVE HIM THOUGH!) _

_I also went back to Chapter 3 (the first time Eponine goes to Joly's apartment) and added a couple lines where Eponine gets really excited when Joly offers to soap her hair for her. Because it doesn't really make sense for her to be so ecstatic about soap in this chapter when she wasn't so ecstatic about soap the last time, haha. Of course, this story is always a work in progress and I get all sorts of new ideas as I go, so it makes sense to go back and tweak. Personally, I loved the bath scene in this chapter so much and I couldn't stop smiling as I imagined Eponine going ga-ga over soap, haha!_

_And YES, Musichetta will show up in the very near future. ;)_

_BTW, I'm going to be regularly posting status reports on all my stories at the top of my profile page from now on so you know where I'm at with each of them. I'll strive to be as honest and specific as I can, so and as always feel free to PM me if you wanna check up on me! :)_

_Please review! Love ya'll!_


	8. Chapter 8

"Why didn't you take her money, M'sieur?"

Joly didn't even hear Eponine at first. Nanette's parting words had stunned him so thoroughly that they were ringing through his head long after she'd already gone. "What was that, 'Ponine?"

"I said, why didn't you take Nanette's payment for that medicine?"

"Oh, because … I couldn't, 'Ponine. Not in good conscience." He turned to her and raised an eyebrow playfully. "Don't look so astounded. I've given _you_ plenty of treatments on the house, haven't I?"

"Well … yes," Eponine stammered. "But _she_ was offering you the money right up. It didn't make sense for you to just not take it"

"Nanette needs that money more than I ever will, 'Ponine."

"But …" Eponine shook her head at him. She'd never seen _anyone_ refuse payment for something. It just wasn't the way the world worked. "When you're a real doctor you can't be giving your fancy medicines away just because somebody's poor."

Joly chuckled. "Well, actually … that's _exactly_ what I plan to do."

Eponine frowned at him. "What the _heck_ are you talking about?"

"Here." Joly walked over to her and gently patted her shoulder. "Let's take care of those bruises and I'll tell you all about it."

She gave him a quizzical look, but then she nodded and allowed him to lead her back into the bedroom. The moment she walked in, she noticed that her discarded skirt and chemise were no longer lying on the floor. "Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"Oh, you didn't see them? I had them hung up over by the fire so they could dry."

"Oh …" She looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, she spotted her rags hanging over the fireplace screen in the main room. "M-merci."

"Of course." Joly smiled and gestured toward the blanket he had draped across the mattress. "Make yourself comfortable, 'Ponine. Sit up so you're facing the wall over there, okay?"

Eponine nodded and climbed up onto the bed, settling into a comfortable position on top of the blanket. For a moment she just sat there, her back to the boy. Then she felt him place his hands against her shoulders.

"Now … I'm going to need to loosen up this robe a bit, 'Ponine."

She stiffened in alarm. Her fight-or-flight instincts instantly took over. Her hands flew up to her shoulders, clutching the robe in place. "_Don't_," she hissed.

"'Ponine … I can't treat your bruises if they're all covered up." There was a slight tug at her neck. "I just have to undo this tie and it opens up the back. I won't see anything you don't want me to."

There was a roaring in her ears. A flood of ice spread through her veins. It wasn't until she felt his hands on her that she even realized what he was about to do. _He's going to put his hands all over me …_

_No! _With a gasp, she recoiled from his touch. Her arms wrapped tightly about herself and she buried her face into the cradle of her elbows. _No, no, no, no, no …_

"Eponine …" She felt his hands slip away. His voice was so soft with concern it sent a pang of shame through her heart. She didn't deserve that kind of pity. "Eponine …"

"It isn't you," she gasped out after a moment. She shook her head violently. "It isn't … it isn't you."

She heard him take in a breath. "I know."

She winced. How could he _possibly_ know? How could he possibly understand that the very thought of him rubbing his hands on her hideous, naked skin made her want to vomit? Never had he asked her to expose so much of her body to him. To his eyes. To his _hands_ ...

_Idiot! _ Shouldn't she be used to such things by now? Lord knows how men have had their way with her body before. _No!_ She let out a gasp of self-disgust. No, she couldn't compare him to them. Not _him!_ A boy so kind, so honest, so _good_. He didn't deserve that. Just knowing she was thinking such things made her hate herself all the more.

"'Ponine …" he whispered soothingly. "It … it's okay. If you're not comfortable with it, then I won't force you." Though she couldn't see him, Eponine could hear that comforting smile in his voice. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

Eponine clenched her fists. _How could you be so good? _"No …" she whispered, exhaling slowly. She willed her stiffened muscles to loosen, one after the other. "It's okay, Joly. I'm okay. You … go ahead."

Joly stared at her cautiously. "Are … are you sure?"

She took in a breath. Released it. "Yes. I'm sure." She turned her head and stared at him with those glimmering almond eyes of hers, desperately hoping he could see what she was trying to tell him. What she was trying to tell herself.

_He isn't like them. He doesn't want to hurt me. I know he won't._

_I trust him … _

_I do._

The boy stepped forward. She turned her face away. He placed his hands against her shoulders ever so gently. She stiffened, but he patiently rubbed the tension away, making small circles along her shoulder blades with his thumbs. Then he smoothly brushed her wet, tangled mane over her shoulder and reached up to untie the back.

He paused. "Eponine?"

She sighed. "It's alright, Joly. Go ahead."

Quickly yet carefully Joly undid the knot. Almost instantly the cloth peeled back, revealing the naked skin beneath. Eponine shuddered in revulsion and Joly's breath caught.

Her back was like a map of the world.

Like old parchment, the skin was yellowed and ragged, and crisscrossed with scars old and new. Jagged, furious streaks of red. Deep, bleeding blots of purple and black. And mon Dieu, the girl was completely emaciated. Every single vertebrae and every line of her ribcage bulged out at him as if threatening to break through her skin. It was repulsive and grotesquely beautiful all at once. How Joly longed to take her into his arms and rub each and every one of those marks away.

"That bad, hm?" Eponine said, breaking the silence. Her tone was resigned and embittered.

Joly swallowed. "I've seen worse," he answered honestly.

With that, he grabbed the container of salve and began to work.

As always, Joly was infinitely gentle in how he handled her, treating her as delicately as if she was made of porcelain. He rubbed the salve over her skin with feather-light caresses, tracing every bruise with almost reverent care. At times Eponine would flinch as he dabbed alcohol where the tender skin had been broken, but he would pause for her, whispering soothingly as he waited for the stinging pain to fade.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he pressed a bandage over her right shoulder blade.

Eponine shook her head. "No. Don't apologize, M'sieur. It doesn't hurt too badly."

"No … I mean I'm sorry that this happened to you, Eponine." His fingers grazed over an especially deep scar along her spine. "You didn't deserve this."

The gamine let out a bitter laugh. "Oh no, M'sieur. I got exactly what I deserved."

Joly jerked back in astonishment. "No, Eponine!"

"Oh yes, M'sieur Joly. I'm getting exactly what I deserve. A wicked, thieving little rat like me always gets what's coming to her."

"But you didn't steal anything!"

"Maybe not this time. But I most certainly have done plenty of wicked things in my life, some of them even worse than stealing."

She turned her head, her eyes burning with self-loathing. "I used to be a real well-off girl, you know? I was spoiled and well-dressed and very, very pretty. People on the street used to stop and peek in through the windows so they could look at me, I was that pretty. But I was horrible, M'sieur Joly. I was ugly on the inside. I helped my parents cheat and steal from honest people who were barely scraping by as it was. There was this little girl who used to work around the inn and I treated her like a dog. I used to hit her and call her names and say the most horrible things to her just because I loved seeing her cry. And then she was taken away and we lost the inn and we were thrown out onto the streets.

"And look what's become of me now. I've been starved, beaten, laughed at, spit on and tossed in jail more times than I can count." She paused, blinking at the moisture that gathered in her eyes. "But I've earned it. Every horrible thing that's ever happened to me happened because I earned it. I'm nothing but an evil, pathetic creature, M'sieur Joly. Always have been, always will be. And for that I deserve to suffer."

Joly shook his head, his heart aching for her. "I don't believe that, Eponine."

The gamine sniffed. "Oh no? Do you believe in God then, M'sieur Joly?"

"Y-yes. I do."

"Do you believe He's a God of justice?"

"Well … yes."

Eponine shook her head, smiling bitterly. "See? There you go."

Joly stared at her a moment. "Yes … I do believe God is a God of justice." His fingers glided over her shoulder. "But … I also believe that He is a God of mercy. A God of forgiveness. I believe that God loves us and gives second chances to those who seek it."

_Love. _That word. A dream she had chased after so desperately like a drowning man grasping for a rope to pull him ashore. But what good had _love_ ever done her in this world? She lost the love of her parents so long ago, and her love for Marius has only left her in agony. Every sense of love she had ever reached for only chewed her up and spat her back into dirt. The very face of love seemed to laugh at her, mocking her tears and reminding her incessantly of how worthless she was.

"I don't think I believe in love anymore," she bit out. "And if God's really as merciful as you say He is, then I hardly think I'm deserving of that kind of generosity."

Joly smiled tenderly. "None of us are, Eponine. We've all sinned in our own way. But I know God has already forgiven many a more terrible sinner than you."

A shiver ran all the way along Eponine's spine. She did not like hearing this talk about a loving, forgiving God. The only God she'd ever imagined was one who saw her as a filthy little cockroach beneath his boot. She did not like how this boy's words about Him filled her chest with a sort of intense yet painful heat that she instantly recoiled from.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she muttered, shrinking in on herself. "Talk about something else."

"Like what, 'Ponine?"

"Oh, I don't know. Talk about that thing you mentioned after Nanette left. About you wanting to give medicines away or some such nonsense."

"Oh yes!" Joly said, his voice brightening. "Well, you see … I want to be a charity doctor, 'Ponine."

The gamine turned her head slightly and gave him a strange look. "What the heck does that mean?"

"It means that ... my dream is to open a clinic in the slums of Paris where the poorest citizens can see a doctor and receive medicines. Free of charge."

"_Free?_" Eponine half-gasped, half-shrieked the word. She gaped at the boy as if he'd sprouted a second head, but he just smiled back at her calmly.

"Yes, free. I've got some money saved up from my inheritance that should be enough to at least get things started after I graduate. I've also been talking to my comrades at Les Amis about championing a government program to support free medical care for the poor." His eyes twinkled. "That's a lot of the reason why I first joined the group, you know?"

"But …" Eponine choked. "You're studying to be a _doctor_. Doctors charge you an arm and a leg before you can see them. Whoever heard of a doctor seeing people for _free?_"

Joly shrugged. "I didn't take up medicine because I wanted to become rich, 'Ponine."

"But that's just it! You _could _be rich, M'sieur! Doctors make loads of money treating the aristocracy."

"Yes," Joly replied, his face turning serious. "And while they're busy doing that, hundreds of men, women and children are falling dead in the streets because they can't afford the most basic medicines."

Eponine shook her head, dumbfounded beyond description. She could not wrap her mind around anything this boy was saying. Dishing out free medicines to the poor? Slaving away to the scum of the streets and not asking any _money_ for it? That's insane! It didn't make any sense in her her world. In her world, you never do _anything _for free. In her world, you cheat and scam and steal if you want to survive, and you sell your soul for every last sous you can get your hands on.

_Nothing gets you nothing_, her father always taught her. _It's a world where the dog eats the dog … where they kill for the bones in the street._

"I don't get you at all," she muttered aloud. "Why would you even bother with people so down in the gutter that they can't pay you back?"

"I've found there's a greater reward in helping those less fortunate than you." He smiled. "That's something I learned from my father."

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll bet he's thrilled that you decided to waste all that university money so you can go work in the slums for _free._"

Joly's fingers stilled for a moment. "My father is dead, Eponine."

Those five words felt like a sharp kick to her stomach.

_Mon Dieu!_ "I …" she stammered. "Oh, Joly, I … I ..."

Joly just smiled at her tenderly and pressed his hand against her shoulder. "It's alright. Perhaps I had better explain why I decided to become a charity doctor." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I never told you how my mother died, have I."

Eponine drew back from his touch. "M'sieur, you don't have to …"

"No, I want to. I want you to know, Eponine. You see … my father came from a long line of doctors. _Wealthy _doctors. The exact kind you were talking about. But he had no interest in servicing the rich. He believed Paris needed more doctors who weren't afraid to touch the sweepings of the street. Who were willing to treat those who'd seen the true face of suffering. And so he devoted his life to helping the lower class citizens of the city, vowing to only charge them what they could afford." He stopped then, his eyes turning warm. "And that's how he met my mother."

Eponine's eyes widened. Joly smiled as he continued on with his story. "She was a cobbler's daughter. Her mother was a maid. But my father said it was love at first sight from the moment she walked through his door. But she was always very frail and sickly, and of course she did not match my father in pedigree. His parents never approved of her. They knew her condition would be a burden on the family's finances, and they doubted she could even bear children. Still … my father loved her. He married her regardless. So between my mother's life experiences and my father's belief in the equality of all people … they were the ones who instilled in me a compassion for the poor."

He paused, massaging some salve below her ribs. "I was nine years old when my father left for India. He'd heard reports about how the natives were being ravaged by fever and disease, and he felt it was his mission to go and help them. I didn't want him to go. My mother's health wouldn't allow her to travel, of course, so he was forced to leave us both behind. And I was terrified of what might happen to my mother if my father wasn't there to take care of her. But … my father made me promise to take care of her in his stead, and in return he promised to return within a year's time." He swallowed hard. "But only two months after my father left for India … my mother succumbed to a terrible fever."

Eponine could feel Joly's fingers trembling against her skin. Her heart clenched, fearing what was coming next.

"For three days my mother struggled for her life. I wouldn't leave her side for a single moment. The doctors all yelled at me to get out of the room, but I just wouldn't let go of her hand. I was so sure that if I let go of her for even one second she would slip away from me forever. I was so determined to take care of her. I'd promised Papa to take care of her and I was going to keep that promise."

He paused for several painful seconds. Then, in a voice tight with anguish he said, "I was still holding her hand when she finally gave in. When she squeezed my hand one last time … and I felt her leave this world forever."

Eponine could scarcely breathe. She felt his trembling hands slip away. Then, to her horror, she heard him sniffling quietly. _He's crying? _The sound of it twisted like a knife in her heart. _Oh, __Joly …_

"I blamed my father," she heard him whisper roughly. "I thought … if he hadn't left us, if he had been there with us that night, then Maman wouldn't have died. And so I _hated_ him for that. I hated him for letting my mother die. And before I realized what I was doing I started wishing that _he_ was the one who died instead." He sucked in a shaky breath. When he spoke again his voice was so hollow it made Eponine shiver. "And then, just a few months later we received the word from India. My father was gone. Typhoid fever. He'd become one of the very victims that he'd been fighting so desperately to save."

Eponine gasped. A single tear dribbled along her cheek. "Oh, M'sieur …"

"You wouldn't even have recognized the person I became after that. For years, I refused to speak to anyone. I spent my days holed up in my room with the curtains drawn, a complete recluse. I was just so angry, Eponine. I was so angry at my parents for leaving me and so angry at God for letting it happen. But more than that … I was angry at myself. I hated myself, Eponine. Because I knew that it was my fault. I broke my promise to Papa to keep Maman safe. And then I wished my own Papa dead because I would rather blame him than accept my own failure. And then God heard my wishes and granted it. I knew in my heart that it was all my fault that Papa died too."

"_Joly …!"_

"From the moment I could crawl, I knew I wanted to be a doctor," he continued. "I wanted to save the world just like Papa did. But after he died, I swore I would never pick up a medicine kit again. What was the point? If the doctors couldn't save Maman, then what was the point? If my Papa couldn't even save himself from the very scourge of disease he was fighting, then what was the point?"

Eponine could not restrain herself any longer. She turned her head as far as her position would allow and stared at him with glistening eyes. _How? How could this be the same person? You who are always smiling, always so bursting with happiness. How could you smile so brightly upon the world that has taken so much from you?_

Joly returned her questioning eyes with an earnest smile. In his eyes, Eponine saw the breaking of the clouds and the coming of the dawn.

"It was my uncle, God bless him," he said. "He was the one who helped pull me out of that dark pit I had buried myself in. I'd been living with him for three years, and then one day he decided enough was enough. Can you guess what he did, Eponine? He forced me to volunteer at the church soup kitchen. That's right. He dragged me kicking and screaming out of my lightless solitude and forced me to do God's work feeding the poor and destitute."

Joly stared at her intently. "Eponine, it was as if I was seeing the world for the very first time. I met beggars, young and old, half-dead from starvation and rotting away from the cold and disease. I met former soldiers who barely survived the scourge of war hobbling about, maimed and abandoned and despised by all. I met orphans, some no older than three, who were left without homes or families and were forced to live off the crumbs of the streets like rats. Some of them were hunched over in their misery and waiting to die, and yet there were many, so many, who still held their heads high. In spite of all they had suffered, there were those who still looked ahead to another day dawning and still trusted in God. In their eyes, Eponine, there was _hope._ Glorious, wondrous _hope._"

As he spoke, a look of unspeakable wonder came alight in his eyes. Something deep within Eponine throbbed painfully to see it.

"That's when I realized my purpose, Eponine. I realized there was a whole world of people whose lives were a thousand times more miserable than mine. And I could _help_ them, Eponine. In spite of all I had lost, God had given me so much. He had given me a passion for medicine and a hunger to learn everything I could about it. He had given me a mother who loved me with all her heart and held me until the very end and whose memory I could cherish forever. He had given me a father who taught me everything I knew and died fighting to save the lives of those weaker than him. A father whose legacy I could carry the torch for in my own life. And most of all, God had given me a heart for a poor, a longing to help those less fortunate than me. In spite of all I had lost, I still had so much to give."

The smile he gave her then was blinding. "And that is something no amount of money can match."

Eponine wanted to cry. The light shining through the boy's eyes was like the rays of the sun, and it filled her with such heat that it made her feel vile, pathetic and unworthy. She saw now he meant every word he said. He wanted to give everything he had to the world around him and expected nothing in return for himself. It made her realize what a selfish, despicable creature she was.

_How could you be so good? _she wanted to cry. The words stuck in her throat so she couldn't breathe.

"So …" Joly flashed her a wink. "You still think I'm stupid for wanting to be a charity doctor?"

Eponine shook her head dumbly. "No, M'sieur. You ... you're not _stupid _at all." She paused and turned her face away. "In fact … I think you might be the best person I know."

She heard him suck in a breath at her words, which only made her blush harder. "I, um ... m-merci, Eponine," she heard him stammer.

She shook her head. "No, M'sieur Joly. I'm the one who should be thanking you. You … you've done so many nice things for me … even though I've been so terribly _mean_ to you."

Joly let out a laugh. "Oh, you haven't been that bad. I'm happy to do this for a friend. Oh! Er, that is to stay …" He coughed awkwardly, his hands growing still except for a slight, nervous trembling in his fingers. "Well … I know you said we weren't friends before, but … do you suppose we could think of ourselves as friends _now_, Eponine?"

The gamine turned to look at him. The green eyes that met hers were so hopeful, so pitiful, like a child begging his mother for something. She wanted to shake her head at him. She knew this boy didn't deserve a friend like her. And yet for reasons she'd never understand, he still cared for her.

Just like she cared for him.

"Yes …" Ever so slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Yes, I suppose we could, M'sieur Joly."

XXXXXXXXX

_AN: Ahhhh … I've been watching some clips of Hugh Skinner recently, not just from Les Mis but from some of his other works as well. And holy fudge muffins, that man is too freaking adorable for words! I couldn't have picked a more perfect actor to base my Joly off of. Of course, any Joly you form in your own mind as the reader is always more legitimate than mine. :3_

_Okay guys, I need some input on something. I'm seriously considering changing the title of this fic to "If I Could HEAL Your Wounds." As you may recall, I only realized three chapters into writing this thing that those were the original lyrics from "A Little Fall of Rain" and Eddie Redmayne had swapped out the word "heal" with "close" for the movie. I feel like such a despicable musical fan for not realizing that, haha. Originally I thought I'll still keep the title the same, but then I was wondering if it might be more appropriate to honor the original lyrics. So … thoughts? Do you feel strongly one way or the other, or just not care? Are we too far into this to change the title now? Feel free to let me in your reviews or PM me as I continue to mull over this, haha. Thanks!_

_Sheesh … I honestly can't believe how long this story's getting. Seriously, we're not even anywhere CLOSE to getting to the Barricades yet! I've still got so much more story in mind. I hope you're still enjoying it thus far. Whether you're enjoying it or not, please review! I love hearing from ya'll! :)_


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